Evolution
by OnyxDrake
Summary: The completed prelude of Shaya and Suteth... to be revisited in other incarnations.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey. This is purely a work of speculation on an existing theme. **

The first separation… I begin to know myself as an isolate intelligence. It is I… the constriction compresses from all sides. I fold myself deeper into my flesh, in the dark. It is time soon and my dam, my origin, Mother, croons and hums to us. Yes. I am not the only one. The great She sings, giving Impressions of blue heights, of stretching thin-membraned wings to carry us aloft and the glory of falling through air: flight.

Mother sings of the fierce hunger and joy at killing and rending flesh, tasting blood, still warm. She sings also of the humans, our riders, the weyrs and our kindred.

She sings of dragonkind and mankind's shared history. She hints at the Elder days, of great golden Ramoth and of white Ruth. She takes great pains to tell of the great man, the Master Harper of Pern. This is the world into which myself, and my brethren, will shortly hatch.

I feel the comforting warmth of the Hatching Grounds beneath. Mother, great golden Kiranth, turns our eggs, taking great care not to damage the shells with her claws as she croons. She pauses often above me. Concern, but she is content when our minds brush: affirmation. I gain the impression that I am somehow different, a cause for worry.

Fessli, Mother's rider… I pick her out… The sense of her. I hear, through my hardening shell, tones apprehension in her voice. Kiranth's impressions of this human woman tell me that she is old but still well-muscled and vital from an active life, well lived. I feel Fessli's cool hands play over the surface of my being, the shell that is all that separates me from physical sight and sound.

_Will it hatch?_

The question is voiced on many levels.

I dream of my ancestors. I know that I am an aberration even before my day of hatching and, yet, this does not bother me over much. I feel anticipation, yes, but no fear. I do fear the Hatching Grounds growing cold, stunting my growth. Yes, that perturbs me. Kiranth smashing me in error? No, I do not fear that. My dam would never flatten my egg-haven. She loves us all, her clutch, far too much. She cares too much, for me, her smallest, especially. She sings for me more often than the others. I fear that I may not break my shell and touch my nose to my mother's great cheeks. I fear that I will never draw air into my body.

I touch Mother with these thoughts. I reach out. This reassures her. We do not yet need the words that I know will come later… When I Impress… _If_ I Impress.

Why should I Impress?

I reach beyond the Hatching Grounds and the comfort of my as-of-yet unhatched siblings. I touch, briefly, human minds. Short, scurrying thoughts slip beneath my tendrils. I gain ideas, feelings… of runner beasts… a feline, small and stalking something in long grass… a milch beast lowing, awaiting attention… the warm embrace and furtive kiss of a young pair of humans. All this is waiting. It will come. I am patient.

And, I do not have to wait long. It begins with Mother: a vibration, a humming that I can feel deep within my beating heart that strains… Compression… An overwhelming need to flex muscles… To stretch… I need to move. And yes… my siblings… My brothers and sisters, they stir as well. We are not many, but we bear the knowledge within us to not overpopulate the world with dragonkind encoded within our blood.

I sense the others stir. Our sire, great bronze Tarth adds his bass hum to Mother's. Excitement. Others rejoice and include their unique tones to the growing crescendo of sound that penetrates the very stones beneath us.

I push. I strain. Out! Out! I want out! I want more! I am done waiting! I hunger for those impressions of sense that I've only yet extracted from the recollections of others. My body wants to flex. My tail wants to coil. I have wings that want to spread.

The others begin to shift. Eggs bumping into mine send my prison tumbling to one side. I feel their vibrations concentrated to one side but my prison holds me fast. I refuse to die. I know the penalty of not breaking shell and I will not be something to be pitied, like generations of sports and freaks that have failed to hatch. I do not wish to be whispered of in hushed tones… Sad shakes of heads.

There are sudden flashes. My brethren, free! The Impressions that have been so long sung about! Indescribable joy. Explosions of emotion burst. Dragons bugle in exaltation. A roar of human voices add to the chorus. Not fair! I want mine! Can't breathe… Painpainpainpain pain! I need out and then, when I begin to fear and feel the constriction close around my burning lungs I strain one more time and then experience the release! The light! Ah! How it hurts. And yes, the fire of air forcing itself into unused lungs… I'm free!


	2. Chapter 2

Shaya kept her head down. Long pieces of her mousy blonde hair, matted into numerous dreadlocks, hid her face and fell halfway down her back. Since arriving at Benden Weyr, no one had attempted to remove this remainder of her previous existence from her. She tried hard to concentrate on the heavy pot that she had to scrub but it was very difficult not to overhear Headwoman Andina's discussion with Mara, her foster-mother who just happened to be in charge of the main kitchen in the lower caverns.

She wondered briefly, if she was somehow invisible, that the two women would have this conversation that fairly set her ears burning. Where she stood, she was hidden by the curve of the wall that led to the stores. The women were just hidden, near the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Great Hall.

"It's got Fessli beside herself with worry," said Andina, sighing explosively. "But the queen won't let anyone, not even Fessli, near the poor little dear. Tarth has flown in a few times bits of meat, but as soon as he's left his gift on the sand, Kiranth flies at him, snapping – all furious. The dragonet is tiny and she's protecting it from everyone. She won't even leave the Hatching Grounds."

"Oh, my…" breathed Mara. "And she won't be reasoned with? Surely the thing should never have hatched in the first place. They normally never do, except for that white dragon that the Harpers always tell about."

"Ruth?"

"That one, yes," stated Mara.

"It's been ages since any dragon has clutched a sport."

"And with the clutches being so small nowadays…"

"It's small wonder they clutch at all," added Andina. "No, this is not like Kiranth at all. And the wee little thing has shown no inclination to Impress. Sticks with the queen as if its life depends on it. And the colour… Now that is a cause for great debate. Some say it's a little queen but it's so dark it may as well be black."

Both women were quiet for a spell. It was, however, at this unfortunate point that the large iron pot elected to slip out of Shaya's slippery fingers, splashing both herself and the floor with liberal amounts of greasy water.

She hissed in frustration.

"Shaya! Be more careful!" exclaimed Mara, glancing 'round the corner.

"Aye, I didn't even know the girl was here," said Andina, also poking her face around the wall. "Ah, well, it's not for us to be caught gossiping like a pair of old wherry-hens. Come here girl. Now that you've overheard most of this story, you may as well take the Weyrwoman a pot of klah and some meatrolls. And spare a thought to curb your tongue 'round the other drudges."

Sheepishly, Shaya dried her hands on a cloth and faced the Headwoman. Andina, a spare woman who'd seen just over forty turns, regarded her with a slight frown as she patted her grey-streaked hair, which was captured in a severe bun.

"You're that holdless girl we took in last Turn, aren't you?"

"Yes ma'm," Shaya answered, examining her scuffed boots as closely as possible.

"Denesh's get? Well, you're not as objectionable as they've painted you out to be," the woman stated simply, without rancour in her tone. "You've acquitted yourself well, despite the wild stories that have been flung around."

Shaya winced. So, they did discuss her unfortunate situation… And here she'd hoped that she could slip into relative anonymity in Benden Weyr's Lower Caverns… Her late father's exploits had shocked most of the Northern Continent. Indeed, for the first twelve Turns, Shaya had not known any life but that of being the bastard get of possibly the most notorious bandit that had ever strode across Pern.

At thirteen Turns, now with the first bloom of her approaching womanhood upon her, Shaya had been relieved that she had not, eventually shared her father's fate and that Benden Weyr had agreed to take her in. After all, it was this weyr's riders that had finally put an end to her father's reign of terror.

Granted, that was not how she had seen the situation, while she'd been living the life of a bandit princess living among the holdless… Ah… how the mighty had fallen… but now, in retrospect, all she could do was shrug and accept the hand that fate had dealt her. After all, there was no old life to run back to.

"I shall do as you say, ma'm," Shaya answered in what she hoped was a contrite manner. In truth, her cheeks flamed and she felt as if she'd turned the same colour as a redfruit.

Careful not to tip the tray and spill the entire pot of klah, Shaya carried the refreshments to the Weyrwoman's quarters, a strange thrill flooding through her heart for the first time in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

"I shall do what you say, ma'am," Shaya said in what she hoped was a contrite manner. In truth, her cheeks flamed and she felt as if she'd turned the same colour as a redfruit.

Careful not to tip the tray and spill from the pot of klah, Shaya took the refreshments to the Weyrwoman's quarters. She was halfway there, when a particular voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Well, hello there. If it isn't the outlaw girl."

Jeram and five of his cronies stepped out of a side passage, blocking her path. Even though he was a Turn younger than her, Jeram took great pleasure in tormenting Shaya at every opportunity that he found. Of course, what made it more difficult for Shaya, was the fact that Jeram's father was second in command of the Weyrleader's wing. The boy took full advantage of this status to lord it over those who were less privileged – such as Shaya – who could boast no more than her ignoble past and the fact that she was fostered to the Lower Caverns' head cook.

"Leave me be Jeram, I'm on my way to take these meatrolls and klah to the Weyrwoman. I want no trouble."

The boy frowned at her, mischief crinkling his brow. He briefly flicked back his blond hair but his gaze noted that Shaya was indeed carrying the Weyrwoman's personal crockery with their gold dragon decorations.

He sneered. "Oh, so now that you're on official Weyr business you are suddenly giving yourself airs and graces? Oh. We can't have that, can we, Benno?" Jeram elbowed one of his accomplices, a tall boy, who bordered on being chubby, whose dark eyes flicked over Shaya from beneath a mop of lustrous brown curls.

"No, we can't have that Jeram, can we?" he grinned. "We'll have to teach her a lesson later for presumin' tha' she can get all high and mighty on us."

Benno giggled horribly, and the rest joined in.

Shaya swallowed, glad that she was still taller than the majority of her tormentors… but for how much longer? This had been going on for some months now, and was liable to become worse when Kiranth or one of the other queens clutched again. They were all potential candidates for a Search… If Jeram Impressed, his arrogance would know no bounds. With her luck, it would be bronze…

"The klah will get cold, let me pass," Shaya said tersely, silently hoping that her voice didn't come across too high-pitched.

"The klah will get cold, let her pass," Jeram mimicked, making Shaya sound petulant.

Pretending not to care, she rolled her eyes at this and walked through the group of boys, who prudently parted to allow her passage.

They Weyrwoman did look worried. She sat at her desk, consulting reams of bound paper. Judging by some of the covers, Shaya reckoned that some of these bindings were several hundred Turns old. She wished that she could read better, the Harper still despaired at her lack of progress…

"Ah, thank you child," Fessli stated, giving a tight smile as Shaya carefully set down the tray in a hastily cleared space. She tried to catch a glimpse of what the Weyrwoman was reading, but the printed words were illegible at this distance.

Curiosity stabbed at Shaya. They'd been talking of one of the hatchlings. What if she could find out more?

"Is there anything else that I can do for you, ma'am?" Shaya asked.

"No, not for now." The older woman's grey eyes shifted over Shaya briefly before she resumed reading a manual. Absently she reached for a meatroll and grasped one, but didn't make a motion to eat it. Shaya sensed that she had already been forgotten, and nodded in acknowledgement before making her exit. Maybe, just maybe she could take a peak at the Hatching Grounds, for the queen was not here in the Weyrwoman's quarters and she dearly wanted to know what the matter was with that dragonet that had everyone else so excited.

And then it struck her… What had Jeram and his friends been doing loitering in the passages near the Weyrwoman's quarters when the vast majority of the population would be celebrating at the post-Hatching Gather?

A cold, hard knot suddenly constricted her belly. Unless their curiosity about the aberrant dragonet had also resulted in their remaining indoors… What would they…


	4. Chapter 4

Hastily Shaya turned from her usual route and took a detour that would pass near the Hatching Grounds. She remembered the incident, not too long ago, when she'd come across Jeram and his friends throwing stones at a hapless canine who'd quite clearly whelped recently. The animal had been trying to gain entry into one of the storerooms and one of the boys had shut the door. Shaya had received a couple of fresh bruises for interrupting that situation.

She could not stop berating herself when some of the drudges sent to find packing crates discovered the canine's pups. At the time, Shaya had not understood why the animal had hung about that storeroom for so long and, had she known… She would have been spared the grisly task of clearing up the younglings' pathetic remains.

No, Jeram would be up to no good hovering about the Hatching Grounds although she doubted that he, or anyone else, for that matter, would be foolish enough to interfere with golden Kiranth… Or would they?

Shaya heard the boys before she saw them. Whispering furiously, they huddled by one of the exit tunnels. The glows illuminated little, so that the light from within the Hatching Grounds cast the children's profiles in sharp relief.

In the distance Shaya saw a flash of golden flank. Kiranth, whose eyes already whirled a dangerous orange tinted with red. Didn't they realise? Flattening her body behind a storage container, Shaya didn't dare go closer, in case she drew unwanted attention to her presence.

"Shards! What colour is it?" a boy hissed.

"Move over. I want a look."

"I can't see!"

"Ouch! That was my eye!"

"Ssssssshhhh, the queen will hear us!"

From within the Grounds, Shaya picked up an angry snort that was accompanied by an excited high-pitched creeling.

"Hey! Pilor! Don't do that!"

"Who just threw that stone?" Jeram demanded only to be answered by further sniggers.

Shaya cringed. Surely they wouldn't?

But, they did. It didn't appear that they actually threw stones at Kiranth, but were aiming rather at a spot that lay a short distance outside of the tunnel, almost as if they were trying to draw attention to a particular spot.

This wasn't right, Shaya thought, whatever they were doing. Plucking up her resolve, she stood up carefully, took a breath and shouted: "What do you boys think you're doing?"

She managed to muster the tones that she'd heard Mara use in the kitchen and she was heartened to see that they'd had the desired affect. The boys screamed as if they were small girls. A thoroughly infuriated Kiranth supplied an answering roar from the Hatching Grounds' interior and then chaos descended. The boys practically knocked each other over in their efforts to escape the queen's wrath.

Jeram caught Shaya's eye as he fled, muscling past Benno. "I'll get even with you!" he threatened.

"Well, you shouldn't be throwing stones in the first place," Shaya countered, her intended kick meeting with empty air, almost unbalancing her in the process. Her indignation knew no bounds.

"You wherry-headed fools!" she yelled, shaking a fist at their departing shadows.

A snort of hot air and the sudden spice of dragon reminded her that she was not alone. All the hair on the back of her neck prickled and she felt the sense of another mind testing her own.

Turning slowly, she realised that she stood at eye level with Kiranth, whose eyes still whirled dangerous fiery shades that mercifully turned green as the dragon regarded the girl. Shaya fought an overwhelming urge to throw up. It was as if the dragon stripped layers off her soul, much as she'd often peel bulbs for the stews. A vast, alien intelligence pressed against her and she backed away slowly on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her weight.

"I'm so sorry, honourable Kiranth, those boys were disturbing you. I've chased them off… They shouldn't…"

_All is well then,_ came a wordless reply. _Thank you, little one._

Kiranth snorted, enveloping Shaya in a gust of hot air. Dragon scent pervaded her senses… a dry smell, slightly sharp yet sweet at the same time, with a hint of carrior stench on the great beast's breath as they stood, impaled upon each other's eyes.

Voices rang out from the opposite end of the Grounds, breaking the moment, causing the dragon to turn away. It would be Fessli or someone else who'd be less than charmed by Shaya's presence. Sparing a hurried glance at Kiranth's retreating bulk, Shaya still did not catch a glimpse of this unusual dragonet that held the entire Weyr abuzz. Instead, she slunk back to the kitchen, hoping that there would be no trouble along the way. Although there was not much to do on a Gather day, Mara had still given Shaya the duty of taking stock of the many supplies in the stores.

However, she couldn't help but feel light inside. A dragon had spoken to her and it was not just any dragon… It was gold Kiranth, Benden Weyr's oldest and most respected queen.


	5. Chapter 5

Mother proves to be frighteningly easy to convince. She keeps everyone away from me. Yes. Stay away you creatures, humans, with your soft pink or tan skins and your grasping fingers. I project fear at Mother: intense waves of fear so that she rears up, splaying her wings. She bugles a challenge at the pathetic humans that attempt to draw near. Not even Kiranth's own Fessli can set foot on the sands. I will not surrender to the Impression that I fear will rob me of some of my autonomy.

Reaching further, I can sense the dulling of my siblings' awareness and the feel of their partial melding with the young humans they have chosen to partner. They creel and think of nothing but their bellies.

Great golden Kirath curls protectively around me, allowing me shelter in her bright curves. I'm uncertain. None of this has happened before. There are no shared memories to fall back upon. The Hatching Grounds is the only known quantity… That, and the safety provided by Kiranth. I project hunger at Mother – a suggestion forms in my mind. Yes? Surely my sire can bring me the sustenance that I need? Until I am big and strong enough to leave on my own terms…

And, indeed, for the first day or two, it proves entirely too easy. Tarth succumbs quickly to pressure from both myself and Kiranth and brings scraps of meat to feed both of us. No need for humans… Kiranth shreds the flesh into tatters that I attack ferociously. This is good.

And yes, the humans are curious. But Kiranth's angry bellows and growls are more than sufficient to keep all at bay. Even Fessli hangs back. I block out her unhappiness. This is good. This is right. Why should I be a slave to the whims and desires of a mere, soft human?

Whatever twist of dragon I am, I know that I am vastly different from my kindred, and it is not just my appearance… I know I am a queen. My colour is gold, but it is a gold that glows beneath a veneer of darkness, that catches its fire only in a certain light when the sun strikes through the apertures in the rock surrounding us. This pleases me no end. I am no ordinary dragon, yet I am not an insipid white Ruth, what with all his bravery that is still sung about. He still had to rely on his Jaxom. I have no need of a name. I exist in opposition to this world and I do not wish to diminish myself by limiting my being.

"'Rogue queen', that's what they're saying," Mara whispered to Andina when they thought that the drudges and cooks were too busy preparing for the noon meal. However, Shaya was slicing tubers directly behind the pair of women, with only a stack of dirty pots screening her from the two, who were far more engrossed in their gossip than paying a mere slip of a girl any heed.

Andina replied: "Fessli tells me that some of the children were throwing stones yesterday. Not at the dragonet or Kiranth, as such, but near them. It could have become a bit more serious but… Anyhow, the queen was in a towering rage over the incident and still won't allow the Weyrwoman near the little… rogue. This can't continue much longer. Fessli's worried half to death. Kiranth still won't speak to her. Who's going to check and see if its hide isn't getting all flaky? Goodness knows, there may yet even be something else wrong with it."

Mara sighed and said: "I don't want to be a bit… well… um… funny… but, there's been talk among some of the other riders that my drudges have overheard. Bronzerider D'then, K'lin and some of the others… Just loose talk, mind you… but it's simply not natural… They feel it would be better… for everyone involved… if someone distracted Kiranth and did the necessary. There are more than enough dragons on Pern, especially now that there hasn't been any of that infamous Thread for several hundred Turns. After all, dragons are here to be useful, for travelling… patrols… keeping peace… not eating up valuable resources."

Andina gave a small gasp. Shaya almost sliced open her index finger with the blade she handled as an icy thrill coursed through her. Surely they wouldn't? She knew that they usually destroyed the few eggs that didn't hatch, deeming it more humane… but to kill a defenceless dragonet? To murder something as intelligent as a dragon, even if it was aberrant? She shuddered.

Shaya heard the Headwoman take a deep breath. "Enough, Mara. This is dangerous talk. As much as I appreciate you keeping an ear out for potential troubles, this is the kind of subject that is best not discussed where others stand a chance to overhear it. If word got back to Fessli… I will hear no more of this until I've consulted with her and I shall wait for an appropriate time to discuss these… issues... Thank you. You haven't heard if our Weyrleader has anything to say of this?

Mara answered, sounding nervous: "I'm not certain. I'm only repeating what the drudges have been gossiping about.

To that, Andina stated: "And that girl, the bandit's get, I heard from a source that she was seen running from the tunnels leading from the Hatching Grounds... shortly after the uproar. Do me a favour, keep an eye on her, will you? I know that she's made a great effort to be a useful part in our Weyr but you never know… She's always been a bit on the quiet side… Never know what's going on in her mind."

"Yes Andina."

Shaya felt an icy tendril of apprehension ease its way up her spine. Why couldn't things just be normal?


	6. Chapter 6

Shaya could barely concentrate on her lessons with Journeyman Harper Pyr that afternoon. A day had passed since she'd overheard the Headwoman's quiet conversation with her foster mother and, during that time, Shaya had done her utmost to avoid any confrontation between herself and any other people in positions of authority. Of course, at her afternoon lessons, shortly before the late-afternoon preparations, she was trapped while listening to the Journeyman Harper drone on and on about Pernese history.

Her other classmates – most of them were at least four or five years her junior – listened in rapt attention. Shaya hoped that Pyr would not make them read out loud again. It was trouble enough that the letters that formed all those troublesome words seemed to swim and blur in front of her eyes whenever Shaya felt herself put in a spot. And, the fact that she simply knew that she could not avoid the impending confrontation over her recent escapade near the Hatching Grounds made cold waves of dread repeatedly wash over her.

What if Mara decided that Shaya wasn't worth fostering anymore? In spite of herself, she found that she enjoyed working in the kitchens. She was always warm, had enough to eat and was learning more about food preparation – something that she'd always been good at when she'd been cooking for her father and his band.

Father… whose compatriots even now were probably plotting ways to escape that island exile... She shuddered briefly as she thought about Father's underlings who'd somehow managed to escape the talons of a death sentence for their part in murdering that bronzerider… Strangely, she felt ambivalent towards the men, whom she'd grown up amongst. It wasn't that she did not care for them, it was just… At least here in Benden Weyr she wasn't on the run the entire time. She didn't have to worry that the dragonriders were only one step behind them. Here, she was always warm and fed. She didn't have to worry about untoward sexual advances… Although none of the men had been so forward when they thought that her father had been watching.

Shaya sighed, her eyes glazing over as she ruminated on these thoughts, absently chewing on one of her locks.

"Shaya! Pay attention!" Journeyman Pyr snapped.

"Yes sir!" she gasped.

"What did I just tell you?"

"I… I…" sniggers erupted from some of the children. It was already quite a joke for them that an older girl such as Shaya had to do some of the basic reading classes with them.

"You have not been paying attention again girl! How do you ever expect to be a part of respectable society if you cannot absorb the basic lessons that form the core of the way we function?"

The man frowned at her, tugging at his slightly dishevelled, coppery hair.

"Shaya," he said, this time with a little more compassion in his voice. "I was telling that Andina has sent a messenger asking if you would meet her in her rooms after this lesson."

It felt as if all the blood drained out of Shaya's face. She gulped, but her throat felt tight and it was difficult to draw breath.

"Yes Journeyman Pyr."

The Harper raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You don't look well, Shaya. Is anything the matter?"

More sniggers from the children in her group. Shaya remembered that Natan was Benno's younger brother and the little boy looked as if he was close to bursting with ill-contained mirth. She didn't really want to consider that any of this would filter back to Jerram and his cronies.

It's their animosity towards me that I pick up on. That, tempered by extreme curiosity is what draws humans to the Hatching Grounds, not the dragons. No. Those I sense on the outskirts of my awareness, waiting. Watching. Biding their time. They know that I must come out eventually.

It's the humans that concern me. I know now what it is that makes me different. It is my memory, my self-remembering. I've figured it out in a matter of days since my Hatching, after I separate Kiranth from Fessli in a mockery of the Impression that so cripples our kind. No, I don't savage that link between rider and dragon completely, but I block most of it – and will keep it so until such time I can fend for myself.

Some of this must translate to the humans via their dragonrider kin. They know, even if they don't act on it just yet, that they are faced with my great and terrible potential. I must be careful.

Ah, yes, returning to yet another stone-throwing incident, the last occasion, where that girl intervened. It is always the same group of boy-children who have, up until recently, bothered us. They're the get of riders and even smell arrogant. Mostly, their minds are more open than the others. I know they come here to see me, so I hide myself by Mother's bulk, playing in her shadows, calling out tantalisingly, daring them to be bold, while projecting some of their desire to Kiranth.

I enjoy needling Mother it is easy to raise her temper and set her eyes whirling rapidly as she becomes highly agitated. Even the soft plop of thrown stones in the sand cannot divert me. Like it or not, if I goad the children enough, they will err on the other side of caution and Mother will catch them. There is more of the primal beast in her now that Fessli is no longer in regular contact with her dragon. I can feel the woman's rage and pain at the enforced separation radiating in waves whenever she approaches us.

I could reassure her that this is only a temporary measure but, for now, it suits me to play the dumb animal. Let the humans think that I am somehow less than those silly smaller cousins of ours. This deception will keep me safe, for the now. But, the other dragons, I know that they suspect something and that suspicion makes them very, very dangerous. We understand the laws of nature that are red in tooth and claw – that everything that is somehow different poses a threat to the fragile balance. Silly beasts! They subject themselves to bondage to puny, fragile humans!

I know that there is an entire planet out there and, the instant that theses small wings of mine are strong enough, I will depart from my mother's great, golden flank.

Ah, but those boys… Their curiosity eats at them. They have heard their fathers speak of me, the little rogue queen. I snatch impressions of these thoughts from their minds. They are more a nuisance than anything else, that bear watching simply for the potential threat they may eventually become.

It is then, on that last occasion that I taste her… a mind unlike any of the others. It is a she, that Shaya girl human and she feels somehow… How can I explain it? I realise, deep within my instincts that if I'd chosen to Impress, this would have been the human. I chew on the idea for a moment or two. What would I gain? What would I lose? It is tempting. There is the sense of the rogue and the outsider about her, which appeals immensely to me but, equally, I know that right now is not the time. I need to consider all my options.

When Shaya interrupts the children I prompt Mother and loosen my grip on her consciousness ever so slightly for her to thank the girl. I have much to ponder. Shaya's appearance adds considerable dimension to my plans. Who would have thought that eventually there would be a dragon clever enough to think further than its stomach?


	7. Chapter 7

Andina's rooms were set much higher up, almost by the Weyrs, and these were spacious and well lit with glows. Shaya admired the tapestries that covered the bare stone of the walls. Most depicted dragons soaring through a vivid azure sky. She wondered at the hours it must have taken to painstakingly embroider such detailed work.

However, Shaya was almost sick with fright when she entered the sitting room and saw that it was not only Andina seated on one of the long hardwood couches, but the Weyrwoman as well. Andina's expression did not betray ire or happiness at Shaya's arrival. Fessli, her grey hair braided loosely and non too neatly, looked as if she hadn't slept in more than a week. Shaya wondered if her bloodshot eyes were due to her crying.

"Please, take a seat, Shaya," Andina indicated a chair directly opposite the two women.

Shaya nodded, swallowed hard and fought the overwhelming impulse to run out of the room.

_Here it comes_, she thought.

An unearthly silence maintained itself and Shaya felt that she must wither beneath the regard of the two most powerful women in Benden Weyr. Fessli sighed, breaking the stasis. Shaya wanted to be quite ill.

"About two days ago there were some children malingering at the Hatching Grounds. This was also not the first of such incidents. They threw stones at my dragon and her hatchling," said Fessli, her voice quiet, but with a hint of cold steel beneath it.

Shaya's throat tightened as cold thrills coursed up and down her body. "It… it…" was all she could say.

"Yes, child, speak up," demanded Andina, barely suppressed anger betrayed in her tone of voice.

"It wasn't me!" Shaya burst out, tears suddenly leaking from her eyes. All the words that she'd carefully hoarded against this confrontation spilled out in a jumble. "It was that morning that I brought Fessli the klah and meatrolls. I saw… I… I saw some boys in the passages near the Hatching Grounds but thought nothing of it until I remembered that I'd seen these same boys throwing stones at a canine a while back. I ran back and caught them at the lower exit tunnel and they were throwing stones near Kiranth. I warned them off because I could see that the queen was furious. They just wanted to see the dragonet but I gave them a big fright and that was when Kiranth thanked me. She was glad that I chased the boys off. I promise I wasn't throwing stones. I'd never hurt a dragonet. I'm being honest! Please don't send me away. I like it here and I…"

"Enough child! Andina exclaimed. She still looked and sounded annoyed but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Shaya found herself worrying suddenly that they'd want to know the identities of the boys and fresh fear bit at her.

Fessli, however, had fresh tears threatening to spill.

"Kiranth spoke to you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shaya answered, her chest hollow but feeling glad for having unburdened herself and praying that they didn't still ask her to reveal the boys' identities.

Andina and Fessli shared an unreadable look. Fessli took a deep breath, then turned to Shaya.

"Has a dragon ever spoken to you before?" the Weyrwoman asked.

"No ma'am. This is the first time."

"Indeed. I really don't know what to say. I am quite concerned about recent developments but I thank you child, for reassuring me that my gravest fears have not been realised." Fessli sighed deeply and slumped into her seat.

"What shall we do about the girl then?" Andina asked the Weyrwoman.

Shaya bristled at this. How could Andina discuss her with the Weyrwoman as if she wasn't even present? Fessli, however, seemed to pick up on Shaya's annoyance and held the girl's gaze with her own grey eyes.

"Shaya, I know about the trouble our Weyr, and others, had with your father. Please understand that we don't hold his misdemeanours against you, yet, also be aware that there are those who would use your past in a way that will not be in your favour. This means that you will always have to work harder than most.

"That being said, do not forget that Benden Weyr has opened its doors to you. This is your home, no matter what anyone says," Fessli said, then paused.

"Thank you," Shaya stated simply, relief washing through her veins.

Fessli continued: "Nevertheless, we are currently facing a bit of a predicament, an unusual situation that you have somehow become involved in. This is regrettable, for you, especially now that you need a life with as few a distractions as possible."

Andina interrupted: "I can ensure that Shaya remains far away from the Hatching Grounds as possible."

"Don't be so hasty, 'Dina," Fessli interjected. "Kiranth will bespeak Shaya when she barely even acknowledges me, her rider of forty Turns."

Shaya thought she detected a note of pain in the Weyrwoman's statement.

Fessli continued, making eye contact with Shaya: "You are most likely aware of the fact that the dragonet is most unusual and I'm not just speaking of her colour, but also that she has failed to Impress – yet still lives. Now, I do not want to keep you from your lessons and the work that you do for Mara in the kitchens but, all I'm asking is that you spend some of your free time near the Hatching Grounds. I want you to be aware of everything that happens and, if anything out of the ordinary occurs, I want you to note it and report back to me."

To say that Shaya was speechless with astonishment would have been an understatement. The Weyrwoman was asking her – the get of a renegade – to watch her dragon and its offspring.

Fessli narrowed her eyes at Shaya as she carried on speaking.

"Dragonets require a fair amount of care. As long as Kiranth prevents anyone from having contact with the hatchling it may not receive some of the help it requires. I suspect that it may be handicapped in some way, and this is somehow having a rather… drastic… effect on Kiranth's behaviour. For some reason, my dragon will be… um… more communicative with you.

"See what you can do. And, I also think that you should be allowed to stand as Candidate for the next when Kiranth rises again. I think, despite what some people say, you've the potential to be an excellent dragonrider."

Shaya could almost swear that the Weyrwoman actually winked at her, much to Andina's sour expression.

"You are excused, Shaya, but please do come and speak with me at the end of each day. I am interested in any of your observations."


	8. Chapter 8

Mara proved to be more understanding about the meeting than Shaya had anticipated.

"Don't look like a startled wherry-hen, lass. Of course I'm not entirely pleased that you may miss out on some of your duties… I was hoping to turn you into my apprentice by Turn Over… You do have a knack with cooking that the rest," and Mara indicated the others busy in the cavernous kitchen, "don't have. But, let's see how it is with that dragon and the hatchling. I know you have ears, girl, and you've heard some of the talk – which would lead to such a senseless waste."

Mara sighed and regarded Shaya with a small frown of worry tugging at her brows. Shaya could barely suppress her excitement in fulfilling her promise to the Weyrwoman, even if she had to first peel and cube enough tubers to feed what appeared to be an entire Gather.

Mara picked up on Shaya's impatience. "Now I don't want you to chop those roots too thickly, so, get on with it then," and she smiled at Shaya before turning to chastise one of the drudges for dripping dirty washing water all over the newly-scrubbed floor.

Shaya couldn't stop grinning, however and, when she received some odd looks from her companions at the workbench, she realised that it was probably because she so rarely had anything to smile about. Her lessons weren't worth bragging about. Most children three years younger than her could already read the Records fluently. Most youngsters her age were already being apprenticed. It was nice to know that Mara really did mean to keep Shaya on. She'd always felt that her time in the kitchens was because the decision-makers didn't quite know what to do with her.

Mara seemed more sympathetic to the dragonet's cause than Andina, Shaya reflected. In fact, it was Mara who'd decided to let Shaya off some of her more time-consuming duties precisely so that Shaya could spend a little additional time watching how events unfolded on the Hatching Grounds.

Later, when the last cubes were dumped into one of the large pots, Shaya ruefully recollected that watching the dragonet was a whole lot less exciting than she'd anticipated. She'd just missed bronze Tarth bringing the remains of a herdbeast for the queen and the dragonet, or so she'd been told by a departing bluerider and, by the time she'd settled by her chosen watching spot, Kiranth had already finished feeding the youngling.

Now, great Kiranth lay curled in a far corner of the grounds, rumbling peacably to herself as an occasional peep betrayed the dragonet's presence. Shaya made herself comfortable by the exit tunnel, warming the toes of her boots in the sands and settling down to waiting which, over the following days, she would grow quite good at doing.

XXX

That girl-child Shaya is here somewhere by the grounds nearly every day now. Fessli thinks that she's clever sending the girl to watch for me. Without her being aware of it, I sift through Shaya's memories, which is easy to do, since people who are waiting for something to happen tend to pass time pondering things that have happened around them.

Ai… and this Shaya girl is a mess. I almost don't know what to make of her. However, I learn many useful things about Pern as I savour her evoked thoughts. Dragonkind knows much about the skies, hunting, mating and other dragons, as well as where the sunniest ledges are. We are, essentially, a lazy species that usually only bestirs itself at the behest of our riders.

This girl has grown up travelling much during her formative years. I pick out a band of men and one in particular – a great bear of a man with a head of matted blond locks – her father.

She has not known her mother's love long. I see a petite woman with brown hair and mischievous green eyes but the memories of her only travel with Shaya until her ninth year.

She recalls a Turn with terrible fevers and much anger. There is some reason why this band of men can't or won't contact the dragonriders or the lords holder for help as the illness sweeps through their ranks, decimating more than half the adults. Shaya's mother numbers among the dead.

This is a memory that Shaya enfolds in a cold, hard knot and she doesn't bring forward again. She misses her mother. Of that I am sure and I begin to realise that this is a bit of something that I can use to my advantage.

It must be terrible to lose one's mother. Without Kiranth's protection I would have been finished – either by the other dragons or by humans wishing to put me out of my misery.

They don't know what I am capable of and, to borrow a human expletive: Shards! I don't even know what I'm capable of yet. What they don't know causes fear. What I don't know about my potential, however, fills me with great excitement. I do need to revise my plans. It is not good for Kiranth to stay inside by the Hatching Grounds for too much longer. She hasn't flown now for several seven-days and her wing muscles will grow weak.

I cannot leave here unless I move in with the Weyrlings and, to do that, I need a rider. I don't want a rider but I'm realising that it will be at least a Turn or two before I'll fly unaided and, if I don't get out of these Hatching Grounds soon I fear I will die of boredom.


	9. Chapter 9

Shaya had just completed her morning classes and was navigating her way to the Hatching Grounds along some of the unused storage tunnels when an unseen foot slipped beneath her shins and brought her tumbling to the rough stone floor. All her breath forced itself out of her lungs with the impact, leaving her wheezing.

"Ooooh, Look how the important Shaya has fallen," came the leering chuckle. Jeram. Benno's high-pitched giggle followed shortly thereafter. Gasping for breath, Shaya rolled onto her back to face the boys, who loomed above her, silhouetted in the dim light.

"So, do you think you are all set to walk and talk with the dragonriders now that you're running errands for Fessli?" Jeram sneered.

"Well, at least she's seen my potential even though I'm not some snotty dragonrider's get," Shaya retorted angrily.

This comment earned her a painful kick in the belly that caused her to curl up into a foetal ball. Of their own accord, her eyes closed and she heard Jeram's hiss of anger. Her last statement had hit its mark. Oh, she'd pay for it, all right, with a beating that was second to none… If only she could rise to her feet before…

As she staggered up, she was pushed into the wall, scraping the skin off her arms painfully and jarring her arm so that it tingled and went numb.

"Well, kitchen drudge… for you are no better than that… Don't think that you'll have a reason to kick up dust outside the Hatching Grounds much longer if my father has anything to say for it. People like you are about as useful as that retard dragonet that you're wasting your time on."

Before she could answer to that, kicks and blows rained down upon her. All she could do as she sank back to the ground was shield her face from some of the strikes that came too close. Jeram and Benno were not foolish. They kept kicking parts of her body that she usually kept covered – either her belly, ribs or back. She almost vomited when a booted toe found its mark in her groin, delivering a sharp, intense fire that burned all the way up to the base of her spine.

As she twisted to escape the pain a sudden explosion of light blossomed behind her eyes and her head snapped back, only registering that someone's foot had struck the base of her skull after a few instants that seemed to slow down and last an eternity. A strangled cry escaped her lips and she felt her body spasm.

"That's enough!" someone hissed, clearly frightened, as the assault stopped. "I think I hear someone coming." And with that, a chaotic tattoo of booted feet raced away, diminishing in the distance.

At first it was simply enough that Shaya could draw breath. A sharp pain on the one side of her chest made her hope that her ribs weren't cracked as had happened on one of the previous occasions. It had taken much subterfuge on Shaya's part to avoid visiting Master Tenabar in the Healers' Hall. Although she had not been attacked by the entire gang this time, it was almost as if this had given Jeram far more licence to be more brutal.

Shaya wasn't sure if her limbs would respond any moment soon, however individual parts slowly became more aware. She felt the burn of pins and needles in her left leg, but when she tried to move again, she almost found herself dry-heaving. Shaya fretted about the blow she'd received to the back of her head. It was probably revenge for the time she'd interrupted their stone-throwing and she mused ruefully on the fact that she had, up until now, successfully avoided any altercations with the bullies.

Shaya groaned as she attempted to raise herself to her hands and knees. The entire world spun. She wondered if she'd be able to crawl to one of the more frequented tunnels. Perhaps if she had used one of the main thoroughfares, she could have avoided this entire situation and she cursed herself for having taken this shortcut too regularly.

_Rule one of not being caught… don't be predictable._ She heard her father's voice in her head. And yes, she of all people should have learnt that lesson well.

Obviously Jeram and Benno had been watching her. They'd planned this out of sheer frustration at not being able to do anything sooner.

Hot tears of frustration coursed freely down her cheeks. If Father saw her now, he'd chide her gently in his deep voice for not being her father's daughter by weeping like a mere babe. And then, he'd go and exact terrible vengeance upon whomever had been unfortunate enough to hurt Shaya. She smiled at the thought. Mother would rock her to sleep in her arms saying comforting things such as "Hush now, my child, I love you. The pain will stop soon enough. You still have all your fingers and toes. We are still here we love you we love you we love you."

Since there really wasn't anyone here, Shaya felt her barriers dissolve in a storm. She cried great gulping sobs as she carefully curled onto her side so as to not create a twinge from her ribs. No matter that the grit on the floor ground painfully into her skin, at the rate she was going, she wasn't even sure she wanted to be found. The assorted aches, both dull and sharp, throbbed with a cacophony of agony that threaded through her body. Each breath brought a fresh wave of nausea and the little light there was hurt her eyes abominably. She could easily lie here for three days before someone bothered to find her.

When she could cry no longer, Shaya slipped into a fitful doze. The cold seeped up, numbing parts of her in contact with the stone. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew that she must fight to stay awake. Something was very important. She must do something but there was so much pain… Besides, why should she bother?

Mother was dead. Father was dead. Benden Weyr would not miss one fosterling who had so little to contribute other than her meagre cooking skills. It would be better for all concerned if she… She thought briefly of the dragonet as her sense dulled.

Oh, the poor, dear thing. She'd caught glimpses of it when it had slipped from Kiranth's coils. Its colour was a dull, matt black but when patches of sunlight shone through the apertures and caught the creature's hide in a particular light, the black displayed the metallic gleam of dark gold tinged with green, most unusual for a queen. Once, or twice, her attention had wandered and she'd caught the little dragonet watching her before it feigned sleep.

Everyone who spoke of this rogue queen said that she was backwards in some way, but now Shaya had her doubts as to the truth of those statements. Fessli had begun to share Shaya's suspicions, although it was far too early to pass any judgements.

And now, it was far too late for Shaya to do anything anymore. She felt it easier to breathe with rapid, shallow breaths and a tingling numbness spread up her arms. She could no longer feel the lower half of her body and her head seemed bulbous and swollen on a neck too weak to support it.

Ah, well, 13 Turns couldn't be too bad, could it? Sure, she'd never kissed a boy, never found some form of independence, but she'd at least seen much more of Pern than most. It'd been good while it lasted. Her eyes grew heavy as it became more difficult to keep them open. Was death really this easy? Just the cold and a blow to the head?

Ah, well…

At first she thought the scraping and snuffling noise was that of a tunnel snake. She roused herself long enough to wonder irritably if they couldn't wait until she lost consciousness before tearing at her flesh… But then the snuffling came closer. Warm breath tickled her ear and a great wave of anxiety washed over her. It was not her own.

_Don't you dare go to sleep, Shaya! Open your eyes and look at me! _A frantic voice spoke into her mind.

"No, go away," she mumbled. "I need to sleep."

_Look at me girl! You must not sleep!_

Sharp teeth sunk into her shoulder and she felt her limp body being shaken. Somewhere, dimly, she felt the pain and the warmth as blood tickled her neck and ran down her collarbone.

High-pitched creeling exploded in her ear. Now where had she heard that sound before? This could perhaps be something worth waking up for. Something important…

Bleerily, she opened her lids to inky blackness until something moved out of the way of what little light existed.

_Good_ spoke the voice in her head. _Now look into my eyes girl. Look at me._

Concern filled this voice, as well as a great need. Hunger. Shaya found herself looking into the yellow-whirling eyes of the rogue queen. She gasped when she felt the recognition, the pain in her body, for once, not registering.

"Your name is Suteth!"

The dragonet hissed, her eyes first whirling red, then suddenly green.

_Yes, my name is Suteth, and Shaya, you are MINE!!!_

Fierce pleasure overwhelmed Shaya before the blackness of oblivion claimed her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ja, the usual disclaimer stuff. Pern isn't mine but I'm playing in her world and all the credit goes to her.**

**XXX**

Fair enough, at least the girl isn't dead. I first realise that something is wrong when she does not arrive at the appointed time this morning when I know that she usually has a break in her duties. Maybe she's had something come up… a change in roster, perhaps? But my doubts chew at me. The more that I consider my options, the more I realise how useful Shaya will be to my plans. It will be best to pretend and I realise, belatedly that I should have done something far sooner.

I cast my awareness out as far as possible. There are many shining sparks scattered throughout Benden Weyr but, for some reason, I cannot track the girl. That is until I realise that my search is too broad and I begin again, fighting against an overwhelming fear that threatens to send me into an animal-like panic. She must be found!

I breathe deeply, ignoring Kiranth's mental query, for I must look odd indeed, standing here so still, with half-furled wings a-quiver. I concentrate my searching and I send my thoughts out to scanning the older tunnels that lead here.

I give vent to a scream of anger at what I discover and it sends Kiranth bugling her own rage that something may discomfort me so. Outside, Tarth roars his answer, setting off half a wing of dragons and unsettling what appears to be every firelizard in the weyr.

Those boys… The day I'm big enough… What can I do? I pace forward. Pause… Take a step towards one of the tunnels, then dash back to the safety offered by my dam, who enfolds me within her protection.

However, Kiranth will not be able to guard me forever. Shaya! I've made my decision and, with a squeak, I gallop towards the nearest tunnel. I'll have to find her myself. Kiranth roars in frustration behind me when she realises that she won't fit through the entrance to follow me. Either I'll succeed in this madness or I'll die but this is probably the first of many gambles that I will make as I grow in my power. I release my hold on Kiranth's mind and she still bugles forlornly after me as I turn a corner.

_Thank you Mother. You have kept me well._

I startle a drudge as I careen around another bend. The old man shrieks and throws down his basket of glows. I dash on, instinctively casting ahead, searching and smelling, for the girl. She is in grave danger. The boys may have left her lying in a heap, but she's in a section of the tunnels that is not often used.

Exhaustion at this unfamiliar amount of exercise saps my initial speed. Young dragons should spend as much time as possible resting and sleeping when they are not eating and should most definitely not embark on madcap schemes such as this – becoming lost in tunnels!

Lost is what I am now. I can't seem to find the right tunnel to connect to the one that Shaya lies in. I end up either too far above or to the side. I stop my pointless creeling when I see that the dragonriders are now involved as well. Many of them are armed with sticks and nets. They don't even know about Shaya, they're here to catch me! And, if that happens, I'll be dead, and no one will find Shaya, leaving her as good as dead as well.

Fortunately my darker colour works in my favour. On two occasions I have little but a shadowed niche into which I must press my body as a pair of great lumbering humans trudges past heavily.

"Do you think it's still in the tunnels?" says V'ton to S'dor, his shorter companion.

"N'dar says a drudge saw it disappear into a side passage near here."

The men look to either side and I freeze as their eyes slide over me.

_I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here_ is all that I can think with all my being.

"Well, when we catch it we must make it look like it was an accident. Maybe we stepped on it. It'll save us all the hassle in Turns to come and we can't afford to let it breed."

Their voices disappear as they stumble off in the dark and I shudder with relief, safe for now. But Shaya's memories of overheard conversations relating to me prove to be chillingly true. The riders know, even if they won't go as far as saying it to Fessli's face, that I pose some form of threat.

It's even more important to maintain and grow this connection with the girl. I'm near complete exhaustion when I finally find her. I'm thirsty, cold and extremely hungry – so hungry I could even eat a tunnel snake, should I meet one.

Shaya's in worse condition than I'd thought. Her breathing is shallow and the agony emanates off her in waves that almost cause me to regurgitate what little there is left in my stomach.

Forming the bond of Impression is easy. As I've suspected before, she has all the characteristics to make an excellent rider. Will it be so easy to break this bond when the time comes?

And my name… yes, I like my name. It is, however, a convenient identification… Suteth. Not just the "little rogue queen" or "that strange" dragonet. These titles are still just human constructs that only define part of what I really am.

When Shaya passes out, I panic. She's close to death and, without her, I'm as good as dead myself. I don't realise that I'm broadcasting this emotion so clearly until I hear footsteps approaching at a run.

"Here! I heard it here! Tarth says that the dragonet should be in this area and she's Impressed that renegade girl!"

Lights wobble and cast shadows that twist and leap on the tunnel's uneven walls. It is my sire's rider, S'man. It is the first time that I see him and I'm initially startled by how young he is. He wears his dark blond hair unfashionably long for a dragonrider and he's barely an adult! So, he's the young upstart whose dragon flew Kiranth at her last rising and now our Weyrleader?

These thoughts take moments to process before the young man sees me and stops dead in his tracks, the more heavy-set D'nar – for that is the name that I pick from his memories – almost knocks S'man off his feet. Both men are out of breath and D'nar holds up a long stick with a glow attached to its end as they see me properly for the first time.

I do what comes naturally and hiss at the men, spreading my wings and arching my back to shield Shaya from their advance.

_Mine!_

"Feisty little thing, isn't she?" D'nar remarks and concern tinges his voice. "But it looks like Shaya's been hurt."

S'man's nervous laugh dies in his throat and he kneels down before me – at a respectful distance, I may add – to look me deep in my eyes.

"Greetings little one. You've had us all running a merry chase finding you. I understand why now. We're not going to hurt you but we need to attend to your rider," S'man says and I can sense the sincerity in his tone and in his posture.

I creel impatiently, but I sift through his thoughts – especially the ones that concern me – and I don't discover any ill feelings, only burning curiosity. Fine, he's not involved with those others who've been plotting my demise. Perhaps I can trust him?

S'Man has that faraway look in his eyes that I take to mean that he's silently communicating with my sire.

"Tarth says that Fessli will have Master Tenabar sent down. She's ecstatic. Kiranth will speak to her again but she's really concerned to hear that Shaya's been injured. Seems that she's taken a liking to the girl."

"That's a relief that Kiranth isn't… damaged…" Says D'nar stroking his moustaches. I can feel his happiness but also his interest as he watches me tempered by his worry for Shaya. He's nervous around me and won't approach too closely.

S'man looks at me. "Will you let us near Shaya? We want to see how badly she is hurt."

I bob my head and move slightly to the side, keeping a propriety claw on the girl's arm.

"She's been beaten up!" S'man exclaims when D'nar brings the glow closer.

_Of course, you fool!_ I say to him, punctuating my vehemence with a hiss.

S'man flinches at this, but doesn't do much more to the girl except to make sure that she's breathing.

"I don't want to move her in case she has some form of spinal injury. She is breathing shallowly, though. I hope Master Tenabar gets here soon."

"Who did this?" D'nar asks, seeing this as an opportunity to crouch down next to his weyrleader.

_Those boys! I will bite them!_

A small growl escapes my throat and both men look up at me in surprise.

"Quite an unusual shade for a gold and an odd dragonet," S'man says carefully, sharing a meaningful look with D'nar.

I realise belatedly that I'm not displaying typical dragon behaviour and it does unsettle them. I must not let them suspect any further aberrations.

D'nar shakes his head and regards me with a steady, grey eyes: "Indeed. I don't somehow think she's a sport as I've read in the Records of that white dragon. Her size is quite normal for a queen. I remember reading that from time to time variations with slightly lighter or darker hues of the usual colours have been noted, but nothing quite this drastic. And certainly not displaying such a precocious attitude."

At this point Shaya groans and our attention shifts back to her. I sense S'man's helplessness. He wants to do something for her but eventually settles for taking off his wherhide jacket and placing it lightly over Shaya. D'nar follows suit.

S'man sighs explosively. "Well, little dragon, I can guarantee you that we'll make sure that Shaya recovers and I promise, upon my honour as the Benden Weyrleader, that I will find out who did this to the girl and they will be made to account for their actions."


	11. Chapter 11

**Pern and the whole shebang belongs to Anne McCaffrey. These current characters, except when I refer to canon characters are all mine.**

XXX

Shaya's dreams involved running through many twisting passages. She kept opening the same door every time and could never finish placing the lids on the same three pots. All the while she was conscious of the intense pain that radiated in waves from the base of her skull down her back. Every once in a while her body would spasm and she alternated between burning heat or cold so intense that her teeth chattered.

She heard voices that raised themselves in concern from time to time and often the high-pitched creeling of some creature that she felt was highly significant in some way.

_Wake up! You can't sleep forever. Shaya… SHAYA!_

The voice sounded in her mind, reminding her of someone she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Mother?"

_No. It is I. Suteth._

Intense joy and relief washed over the girl, then pleasure, as Shaya opened her lids to gaze into the rapidly whirling facets of her dragon's eyes.

"Suteth," Shaya managed to croak, licking her cracked lips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Suteth crooned. Still small enough to perch on the bed, the dragonet had quite clearly been nesting on the sleeping furs by Shaya's side. Wings tightly furled against her back, Suteth's sharp claws penetrated the bedding, pricking lightly against Shaya's thigh as the creature shifted slightly.

_You don't hurt as much? Feeling better?_

The dragonet cocked her head to one side, the oily metallic green-gold sheen of her dark hide catching a beam of errant sunlight that streamed in through the window.

"Yes, but I feel so weak. And thirsty," Shaya answered, marvelling at this communication with one so close to her.

_I will let Kiranth know._

Grimacing, Shaya sat up, gingerly. A careful examination of her person revealed ribs bruised and colouring to an ugly mix of yellow and black. Her cheek felt swollen but all her teeth were still intact. She almost recoiled in horror when she pressed a hand against the base of her skull. Part of her locks had been shaved away and small, neat stitches proclaimed that an ugly gash had been sewn up, leaving the flesh tender to touch and spiky with a fresh growth of hair. Shaya swallowed hard, trying to overcome a sudden wave of nausea.

Suteth stepped up onto Shaya's lap, much in the same way that a kitchen feline would be wont to plead for attention, her eyes whirling rapidly between green and yellow. Shaya wasn't sure if the sudden wave of anxiety that she felt was hers or the dragons.

"I will be fine, little one," Shaya replied, for the first time tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke her dragon's hide.

"You're so soft. And warm," she murmured, revelling in the suede-like sensation of the dragon's skin beneath her fingers. In all her time, except for one, fear-filled ride upon a dragon, she'd never reached out to make contact with one of the beasts on her own.

_S'man has oiled me so that my hide does not crack. He is gentle. I like him._

"He has been kind to me in the past," Shaya stated, remembering at least a handful of situations where the Weyrleader had shown a friendly face where most had shown her only indifference, if not poorly veiled hostility.

Shaya sighed and looked around the room. She recognised it as one of the private rooms adjoining the infirmary. Two small glow baskets punctuated bare stone walls and a single, straight-backed chair made of skybroom stood next to her bed. A small recess directly opposite her held a pottery jug and bowl, obviously meant for washing. Shaya assumed that the small pallet next to her bed had been placed there for Suteth's benefit. Obviously the dragonet had very different ideas as to what a sleeping place should be.

Noting Shaya's thoughts, Suteth piped up: _They mean for me to have slept on the floor but it was cold at night and your furs were warmer than the floor._

Shaya smiled, lightly scratching the dragonet's eye ridges, making her thrum deep in her throat.

"You are a determined little dragon, aren't you?" A welter of thoughts preyed upon Shaya. She knew she'd run into Jeram and Benno but she could not remember much thereafter except for Suteth's intrusion.

_I called S'man. He saved you. You lay on the ground. Hurt much._

"You didn't come to me sooner. I spent all that time watching you."

_I wasn't sure._

Their conversation was interrupted as the door opened, revealing Master Tenabar, a man so short that if Shaya stood next to him, she'd be at least a head taller than him. Brown eyes danced merrily in his face as a smile leapt to his mouth.

Tiny, Master Tenabar's green fire lizard flitted into the room, hovering above her keeper's head, chittering in an agitated manner, her wings a blur.

"Ah, our little brigand has awakened," the man exclaimed, but there was no malice in his tone as he approached the bed. "And the little monster… Behaving yourself for a change?"

He stretched out his fingers to pat Suteth on her muzzle. The dragonet leaned into Tenabar's hand, crooning, making Shaya wonder what the creature had been up to while she'd been unconscious. Evidently, she hadn't wasted time endearing herself to others.

"How… How long have I been asleep?" Shaya asked the Healer.

"Two seven-days and a bit, lass," replied the small man, perching upon the chair. Shaya couldn't help but notice that his feet barely brushed the floor and he swung his legs in much the same manner a young child would. How incongruous! But then, she'd never been in close proximity to the Weyr's eccentric healer before.

"I'm afraid we'll have to keep you a-bed a while yet before we can transfer you to the Weyrling barracks."

"The Weyrling barracks?" Shaya asked, astounded.

"Well, surely that's where you belong now? Where else would you expect to look after little Suteth here? She won't be that little in a Turn or so."

"I'm a…" It finally sank in and Shaya felt warmth trickle at the corners of her eyes.

_You're a dragonrider, yes_, Suteth finished for her, affirming her statement with a playful nudge.

Master Tenabar seemed satisfied with Shaya's progress and examined her injuries carefully before allowing visitors and here, again, Shaya found herself reduced to speechlessness.

First to visit was Mara, who brought a covered bowl containing Shaya's favourite stew. Mara's eyes filled with tears as she embraced Shaya, astonishing her with the realisation that her foster mother did, in fact, care enough to show such strong emotions.

Thereafter Fessli, accompanied by a beaming S'man, took Mara's place, fussing over her and Suteth with assurances that she'd be made to feel welcome when she joined the other Weyrlings.

Thereafter, a small group of her classmates who, under the anxious instruction of Journeyman Harper Pyr, brought her a gift that comprised a handcrafted basket filled with biscuits and dried fruit. Shaya suspected that this visit was more out of curiosity over Suteth than any real concern for her and, as if picking up on Shaya's thoughts, the dragonet began to creel impatiently shortly after the young guests' arrival.

"I… I think she wants to be fed," Shaya said to Pyr, who had the good grace to look abashed.

"Yes, yes, indeed. But such a curious colour… ah, but you are looking a touch pale yourself. We have overstayed our welcome. Come children!"

Last to leave was small Eidri, a rather solemn child of seven Turns that had been fostered to Benden Weyr at the same time as Shaya and who rarely spoke. She tip-toed up to Shaya and whispered in her ear: "She's really pretty, just like you," before colouring a deep scarlet and rushing out of the room to join her half-dozen classmates.

Shaya could only smile bemusedly… since when…

But Suteth's creeling grew more insistent and shattered her reverie.

_Hungry! Want food! NOW!_

As if in answer to this need, the door opened and S'man entered, carrying a large bowl filled with scraps of meat.

"Weyrleader!" Shaya exclaimed.

"Call me S'man, please. Fessli asked if I can come and help you feed Suteth for the first time."

"Thank you," Shaya answered, unable to think of anything else to reply to the man's statement.

Suteth practically climbed up S'man's trousers in her attempt to reach the bloody scraps and he pried the rather vocal dragonet off gently, seating himself on the edge of Shaya's bed.

With the racket Suteth made, it proved virtually impossible to hold a decent conversation and S'man demonstrated how to feed monstrously hungry dragonets with the first few scraps of meat before allowing Shaya to take over.

"At least bite it into smaller chunks, you greedy thing," Shaya chided, watching the progress of an over-large piece vanishing down Suteth's throat.

"Careful now, you don't want her to choke to death," S'man laughed.

When Suteth finally finished her meal, and had curled herself around Shaya's waist, S'man passed Shaya a damp cloth with which she cleaned her hands.

"This is not the only reason why you are here, is it," Shaya said quietly, not meeting S'man's brilliant green gaze.

"You're right," he replied, suddenly all serious Weyrleader, and not just an affable young man. "Would you like to speak about what happened in the tunnels before Suteth found you? Interpersonal violence in a Weyr is a very serious matter, as you're well aware."

Shaya looked down at her hands and lightly stroked Suteth's eye ridges, watching as the sleeping dragonet twitchted slightly beneath her touch, so soft… so warm.

Should she tell S'man? Even now that her situation here at Benden Weyr appeared to be vastly improved, she worried. Surely Jeram would no longer do anything to hurt her or little Suteth? Jeram's father was V'ton, rider of brown Sorkath, and he held an important position in the wings. If she implicated Jeram or even Benno, whose father was also a rider close to V'ton, it may cause trouble that could create problems much greater than they could anticipate. It would not do for the Weyr to suffer internal dissent. Besides, would S'man take the word of a brigand's daughter above that of a trusted rider?

"It was dark," was all that Shaya said. "And I was badly hurt. I'm not sure what happened."

Even then she could still hear Jeram and Benno's threats ringing in her ears. Shaya swallowed hard and then met S'man's gaze, hoping that the lie would not be easy to read.

_He doesn't believe you._ Suteth's voice intruded.

Shaya started, looking down at the seemingly sleeping dragonet who roused herself enough to partially lift a lid.

_If you don't tell him, I will_, Suteth continued.

_NO!_ Shaya willed at Suteth.

_Very well, but I think you're being extremely foolish_, Suteth replied tartly.

S'man frowned and Shaya felt herself colour a deep shade of red that probably contrasted rather nicely with the off-white linens of her bedding. She realised that he really wasn't that much older than her. He may be the Weyrleader but he was only five Turns older than her, a fact that hammered home when she regarded his slightly gangly frame. Granted, sitting before him and not having him tower over her was probably the main reason she now saw the youth in his visage.

S'man sighed explosively, a frown playing across his features that transformed him at once into a much older man. He looked faintly annoyed and it came across when he spoke again.

"Shaya, you can speak to me or Fessli about this. We're not blind either. Mara has mentioned that she thinks you're having some trouble with the children."

"Really, Weyrleader, I'm fine," Shaya said, unable to maintain eye contact, her fingers twisting the furs. "I don't think there will be any trouble in the future."

_You can be sure of that_, Suteth broadcasted so that S'man also heard.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, regarding the dragonet, who deigned to study him in return before yawning widely.

"You really are quite a forthright little thing," the Weyrleader stated, shaking his head with a wry grin. "I have a funny feeling that we're in for some rather interesting times."


	12. Chapter 12

**Pern and its dragonriders belong to Anne McCaffrey. This is merely a work of speculative fiction that acts as a fanciful way for me to practice my writing while entertaining myself and my readers.**

XXX

Master Tenabar kept Shaya in the infirmary for another sevenday. It proved virtually impossible to confine Suteth, who displayed an uncanny ability of finding trouble. If the dark dragonet didn't sneak into the other rooms at night during her explorations, scaring some of the other invalids to death by half-measures, she'd end up overturning buckets of dirty water or tripping up some of the healers. Plainly put, Suteth got underfoot constantly, sticking her snoot into nearly every box, cabinet, bag or cranny she could find. Shaya found herself hard-pressed keeping up and spend less time recuperating in her bed than she should have.

The day before Gather day, Master Tenabar introduced Shaya to T'lenek, the weyrlingmaster and struggled to hide his relief at seeing off the dragonet, even if he'd grown quite fond of the little beast and its rider.

T'lenek could not be classified as a typical brownrider. Although he was rather tall, his limbs were spindly and, judging by the redness of his skin, he did not take kindly to excessive sunlight. He reminded Shaya more of a harper, with his seeing-glasses perched upon the thin bridge of his nose and a tendency of hopping from one foot to another as he waited for Shaya to put on the new wherhide jacket Fessli had brought her as a gift. Shaya tried to hide the fact that Suteth had already sampled the edge of one sleeve.

Suteth regarded the man warily, trying to hide her body behind Shaya's legs.

T'lenek, however, could barely suppress his excitement at finally being close enough to touch the dragonet.

"She is growing well," he stated, leaning around Shaya as Suteth scooted to keep the girl between herself and the man who towered over both of them.

"He won't bite, dearest!" Shaya exclaimed, unable to keep a smile from her face.

_Don't expect me to allow him to examine me as if I'm some prized runner-beast,_ Suteth retorted, huffing explosively. She did relent, however, allowing T'lenek to run his hand from her nose to her tail. Deftly he reached out to manipulate wing joints, eliciting a grunt from the dragonet, whose tail shifted on the stone floor.

"She's going to be a strong flier," the weyrlingmaster stated. "See how deep her chest muscles lie and proportionately I think she has more wing membrane, similar to S'man's Tarth, so that must be a trait of that line that is quite strong. I noted the same on Tarth's dam, Nareth."

All this information was lost on Shaya, but she tried to appear interested.

"Well, let's leave this place. I hope that you do not see the inside of the infirmary any time too soon. I have an excellent record with my charges. It is time that you meet your companions."

They weyrling barracks proved to be two halls on opposite sides of a long tunnel, that separated the boys from the girls. None of the weyrlings were in the dormitories at present, but Shaya noted that five others shared the large room with her.

"Ten boys Impressed. That makes it sixteen dragons in total now that you're here," said T'lenek, by way of explanation. "Ah, for the old days when there was Thread to fight. The queens would sometimes rise twice a Turn, not now every second or third. And the clutches were huge, sometimes more than thirty eggs."

T'lenek had a faraway look in his eyes. Shaya wondered if they'd spend the entire morning reminiscing here in the sleeping quarters. She'd taken a bed that was far away enough from the others, but not quite on the opposite end of the room. She didn't know how the other girls would react to her, but she did know that Darissa, the oldest daughter of Lord Eledar of Ruatha, had Impressed and, having experienced the girl's high-handed manner, Shaya was in no mood to have further trouble.

She stowed what little she possessed in the chest at the foot of her bed, wondering idly how many weyrlings before her had fingered its smooth, wooden surface.

T'lenek waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Suteth as the dragonet snuffled at the sleeping palettes that lay on the floor.

Abruptly the dragonet made eye contact with Shaya, exclaiming: _He won't stop looking at me!_

Shaya laughed at her dragon's querulous tone.

"You're making Suteth uncomfortable, sir," Shaya said, unable to keep the amusement from showing.

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed T'lenek, straightening. "Well, she is a rather remarkable colour. I never thought I'd live to see the day. I was just thinking how well she'd be camouflaged up near those volcanic peaks I saw near Lessa's Buttress while I was on sweep last week."

He muttered thoughtfully to himself and then, finally noticing that Shaya had been standing and waiting for him for him for more than a moment he smiled, quite clearly caught off guard and motioned for Shaya to follow him.

"Our weyrlings are at the Technicians' Hall, receiving instruction on the terminals we have lately received from Landing. All dragonriders must be proficient in their use. For now, you keep your dragon nearby, as she is still small and must be cared for closely. Later, when she is bigger, she must stay out of doors."

With that, the man grinned, an almost childlike joy spread across his face as he steered Shaya out of the tunnels to the large, barn-like structure that protected the Technicians' secrets.

XXX

What a sorry excuse for dragons these siblings of mine are! They think of nothing save their bellies if they're not fawning over their riders. I must admit a passing fondness for Shaya but I am not hopelessly and helplessly centred on her.

My fellow dragonets have the attention spans of nothing more than overgrown fire lizards. As we settle into our lives in the weyrling barracks, their shortcomings become more and more apparent to me. The worst is their unforgivable lack of imagination when they are not in direct communication with their riders. And the petty tussling… Within two seven-days, when the riders are not caring for our immediate needs, we are expected to rest or play in and around one of the structures near the lecturing hall.

And, it is at these times, that I have problems with the other queen in our clutch – Ulmanoth. Although I am bigger than the bronzes, Ulmanoth carries at least a bit more bulk and length than I, and she is at me constantly with games that barely mask her vindictive nature. Of course, when Shaya asks, I tell her that the cuts and scrapes were caused by brushing up against sharp edges. I don't want to bring her more trouble than she already has. Oh, and does she have problems…

Safely put, Shaya is nothing but a social misfit. To give the girl some credit, she does try very hard to pull her weight, but all those Turns spent running around Holdless have left her with few commendable social graces. For one, she can barely read, a fact that serves as a serious disadvantage among her more educated peers. Also, when confronted, she tends to either be too reticent, or too argumentative, depending on the rank she faces. She is sometimes too outspoken and struggles to accept criticism. She's on the defensive constantly, but then her fellow riders offer her no quarter, either, and treat her with the disdain my siblings offer me.

She wants so badly to be accepted but the horrors visited upon respectable society by Shaya's late father are still fresh in the minds of the weyrfolk.

I won't fight her battles for her, however. Mine are far more dire. If I were to tear a wing membrane… Within the first seven-day I manage to best Ulmanoth for the first time and, for now, she grudgingly moves aside when I claim my spot on the shelves when we snooze away our meals in the sunlight.

The rest are petrified of me and there is little contest when it comes to favourite basking nooks. That being said, blue Basteth and green Kushoth are making some playful overtures. Who knows? Maybe their riders' attitudes towards Shaya are playing a part in this. If only that damned fool girl would notice.


	13. Chapter 13

**Pern and its dragonriders are © to Anne McCaffrey. She's just really nice and allows us to play in her world. Thank you Anne!**

XXX

For the umpteenth time this day, Shaya felt the first hot tears of frustration prickle in the corners of her eyes and threaten to spill down her cheeks. It wasn't just the punishing routine that sapped at her resolve. Who would have thought that her fellow weyrlings could behave so abominably towards her? From the start her introduction to her peers had been fraught with problems, not least of which was the fact that Shaya had been dumped in the midst of an already established pecking order that had had a sevenday or so to settle before her introduction.

Theria, the other queenrider, had taken an immediate disliking to Shaya, no doubt fuelled by greenrider Darissa's venomous whisperings, for the two girls' heads were often bent together as they regarded Shaya.

And Darissa… Before this, Shaya had met the lass a number of times when she was standing for Candidate. What made matters worse was that this erstwhile lord holder's daughter had brazenly claimed that she would be Benden's next Weyrwoman and then had gone on to Impress a "mere" green – a fact that had caused the girl no end of mortification. That Shaya who, in Darissa's eyes was little better than a drudge, had Impressed the only other gold (even if it was an anomalous shade), probably pricked Darissa's inflated ego. She certainly wasted no time lashing out at Shaya at every opportunity with her barbed comments.

It didn't help that Theria, who should, by rights, be able to exert some influence due to her status as the youngest goldrider, hung onto the older Darissa's every word. The other weyrlings either didn't care much for Shaya or joined in executing some of the nasty pranks Shaya felt certain originated with her embittered foe.

The torment started subtly. Someone would put salt in her klah. Or one day she woke to find that her boots had been thoroughly soaked during the night and, by the end of the day, her heels and ankles had been rubbed raw in places and blistered in others. Her undergarments regularly went missing, to the point where Andina almost refused to issue more.

The worst came when she returned to the barracks for a change of clothing only to discover that someone had urinated on her bed and in the trunk containing her only change of clothing.

She did not say anything to T'lenek. Instead, after the evening meal, she diligently washed all her things in the washroom near in the lower caverns when all but a few drudges were abed. Since the first incident, hardly three days would go by without someone soiling her bedding yet again, sometimes even smearing faecal matter into the sleeping furs. She hardly could remember what dry bedding felt like and, no matter how much soap sand she used, she could not rid the items of the underlying stench of human waste.

Things did not appear much better for her dragon. Although Suteth refused to say anything, Shaya felt certain that the other dragonets found every opportunity to attack Suteth. Granted, after the first sevenday there were fewer tears in her hide but even the weyrlingmaster shook his head when yet another fresh batch of injuries appeared on his charges. To make matters even more suspicious, it was always the same culprits: Suteth, Ulmanoth, Tanarith and regularly the two bronzes. Whenever Suteth limped slightly or sported another abrasion, the weyrlings would be assured that the other dragons came off worse.

But, it was this day, as Shaya went outside after breaking her fast to discover Suteth's eye swollen completely shut and weeping green ichor, that she could barely suppress the urge to wipe that smirk off Darissa's face with her fist. The other weyrlings had already taken their dragons down to the lake – so cheerful in the late spring sun – but that hated pair hung back, quite clearly gaining great enjoyment as Suteth huddled miserably in the weak light. Suteth shook her head every once in a moment as if it may dispel her problem. Ichor trickled down the little dragon's snout and she didn't even pause in her head-shaking to acknowledge her rider.

"Suteth! What happened? You could have called me!"

_Hurts. Not your fight. Leave me be._

The dragonet hissed angrily as Shaya approached her, raising her wings and displaying a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

"You're hurt! Let me help! Suteth! Please!"

Suteth did not reply to this, but creeled pitifully, pawing at her injury. Shaya worried that this would only make the situation worse. Who knew what dirt could be ingrained in the wound as the dragon fretted at it? She did allow Shaya to encircle her in her arms. Already Suteth had grown far too large to carry.

"Shards! Suteth, I'm going to call for Master Tenabar. I know I'm facing some problems but this… This is pushing things too far! This isn't just playing rough!"

"Is something the matter?" a voice asked behind the pair and its shadow blocked the sunlight.

"Weyrlingmaster!" Shaya cried. "Suteth's been hurt and it looks bad!"

"Let me have a look. Oh. Yes. Hold her still and tell her to stop squirming as if she's a tunnel snake."

_He's going to take out my eye!_

"Hush, Suteth," Shaya said, fighting against waves of panic. "T'lenek is just trying to help."

_IT HURTS!_

"Tell her not to blink!" T'lenek commanded. "Tenabar is bringing the numbweed. I've asked Farneth to bespeak Kiranth."

Shaya couldn't prevent her tears from spilling freely. How could everything be going to so wrong?

"Will she lose the eye?" Shaya asked, swallowing hard.

"I can't tell yet. Hold your dragon still!"

Suteth broke loose from T'lenek's grasp, creeling loudly in anquish. Far up on the heights, Kiranth bugled her alarm.

"Please Suteth!" Shaya cried out. "We just want to help. We can't do anything if you don't stop moving."

Soundlessly the dragonet gaped, shuddered and went still, and only her wings quivered where she held them stiffly by her sides at an unnatural angle.

T'lenek bit his lip, a shaky hand stroking Suteth's back. "Hush now, little one. The pain will stop soon."

Then he looked Shaya directly in the eye.

"Who did this and how did it happen?"

"Sir… Sir I think that some of the dragonets don't like Suteth."

"Mmmmm… Not just so much the dragonets, methinks. Now keep on stroking her and project calming thoughts. Think of your favourite things and hold them until help arrives."

He rose to his feet and paced, his boots ringing on the slate flagstones. He paused, regarding Shaya with his steely gaze as he pushed his seeing glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

"I have eyes in my head, Shaya. Don't think that I'm not aware of what's going on. Usually we allow our weyrlings to sort out their own pecking order but, when injuries persist and become this serious, then it is time that I step in. And, if this carries on, our weyrleader may even have a word or three to say."

Shaya tried to wipe the moisture from her eyes, but nodded wordlessly at the weyrlingmaster's statement.

He continued: "As dragonriders we must work as a team. Petty grievances must be thrust aside. We don't fly against Thread the way we used to so many Turns ago, but that's not to say that dragons and their riders have outlived their usefulness. We are a symbol of all that makes Pern great. The people of Pern look up to us as a living embodiment of all their dreams and aspirations. As dragonriders we cannot afford to tear our fraternity apart with squabbles and power mongering. We are the guardians of this planet. This pathetic business between you and your companions must come to an end."

"Y… Ye… ye… Yes sir," Shaya stammered.

Before T'lenek could continue with his sermon – and judging by how flushed he was, he was rather angry – the rapid approach of two sets of footsteps announced Master Tenabar and Fessli's arrival, whose faces were set in grim expressions.

"Let me look at the little monster," Tenabar gasped, out of breath and shouldering his much-scuffed wherhide slingbag.

"Who did this?" Fessli demanded, immediately kneeling down by Shaya. "Why wasn't I told about this sooner?"

Shaya groaned inwardly. Now the firelizard was out of the box. Now the entire weyr would be aware of her difficulties.

"I didn't want to be any trouble," Shaya said, trying to hide her face behind some of her errant locks that had escaped her hair band.

"Didn't want to be any trouble…" Fessli muttered darkly. "Look at me girl."

Trembling, Shaya looked into Fessli's stormy gaze.

"An attack on any one of the dragons here at Benden is a direct assault on the entire Weyr. Even if you are the daughter of a convicted criminal, my protection covers you. You were not tried for your father's crimes and, no matter how unpopular _he_ was, you have not been found guilty, no matter how _some _in this weyr want to paint you the same colour. Your duty is firstly, to your dragon, then to Benden. Do I make myself clear? By allowing these foolish attacks to continue unabated, you may have caused your dragon a permanent disability."

With that the Weyrwoman paused to tuck a tendril of her iron grey hair behind her ear. Everyone's attention shifted from Shaya and the Weyrwoman to Master Tenabar, who'd just finished slathering Suteth's eye with numbweed.

"Healer, will she see out of that eye?" Fessli asked.

"Aye, Weyrwoman, that she will. There is only superficial damage caused to the outer membrane. It will heal up within a sevenday, although the first three days will cause her some discomfort and it is best that she rest as much as possible and not be too active."

Shaya felt limp with relief. Indeed, the dragonet in her arms also visibly relaxed as the numbweed took full effect.

_It does not feel anymore._

_Good_ Shaya replied. _Now, who did this? Was it those two?_

_Yes, they forced me against the wall. Those two girls did while Ulmanoth raked at me. All because I pushed her from her basking perch. The one that I'd claimed yesterday._

_There's more to it than that,_ Shaya stated.

"Well?" asked T'lenek.

Shaya looked wildly from face to face. If she spilled all that she knew out here anyone may overhear. Indecision gnawed at her and she quailed, faced by some of the weyr's most important people. This was no laughing matter and Shaya realised that there was absolutely no way that she could let this situation slide the way she'd managed with the others.

Shaya looked down at the worn toes of her boots. "I'd… I'd rather not speak out here."


	14. Chapter 14

**Pern and the dragonriders of Pern belong to Anne McCaffrey. This is purely a work of speculative fiction based on her milieu. In fact, I should be concentrating on my own writing but I enjoy this little bit of indulgence.**

XXX

Oh, that girl drives me wild sometimes. She's so retiring, like a wher afraid of the sunlight, yet she has a resilience that could prove quite useful, if she had the spine to tap into it. A lesser girl would have run squeaking to her elders the first time anyone piddled in her bedding. But then, Shaya's stubborn refusal to ask for help has, in all likelihood, also contributed to this sorry state of affairs.

In fact, I have to admit that my own arrogance has worked against me among my siblings. But, Ulmanoth's haughty behaviour has stuck crosswise in my gut. It doesn't take me long to pick up that it's more than just the natural shuffling that takes place among younger dragons establishing their rank among their peers. There's vindictiveness in their attacks on me that goes beyond what they do to each other.

Ah, well, there's bound to be some trouble with two queens in one hatching, but this is more than even that and the ringleaders rarely leave me be. This incident involving my eye occurs shortly after I humiliate Ulmanoth once more, and this time, it's Tanarith – a lowly green – who has the opportunity to make the lucky swipe at me.

Oh, and the Threadfall that occurs after the fact! The trouble… The glorious trouble! It's no fun having a sore eye but I enjoy the aftermath immensely. The first thing that happens is that Shaya is moved to one of the private weyrs – a really well-appointed weyr usually reserved for ailing dragons – so it is spacious and has its own heated bathing pool.

Of course this move does not make her popular – or damages what little's left of her standing but at least we no longer suffer some of the indignities previously heaped upon us. I especially enjoy the fact that I have my own ledge (very large) that I can sun myself upon without experiencing any nonsense from those firelizard-brained sibs of mine.

I think the privacy does do Shaya some good, as well, as she begins to show some improvement in her studies and practical lessons, however her ability to read is still dismal.

The Weyrwoman's little speech to the current crop of weyrlings (and their dragons) has been something worth beholding. More than one head hangs in shame at the woman's blistering tirade and Kiranth does a fair show backing up her rider. The entire Weyr is subdued that day with everyone tip-toeing around Fessli as if they're all walking near a clutch of eggs. All this I watch lazily from my ledge.

Although Darissa's attitude towards Shaya doesn't change (and neither does her manipulation of gold Ulmanoth's rider cease), that noxious pair do let off their malign attacks upon Shaya and myself, for a while, at least.

XXX

"Mind if we sit next to you?"

Shaya started badly, almost spilling her klah as she looked up to see two of her fellow weyrlings standing beside her with their cups of klah in hand.

It was F'dar, the red-haired rider of blue Basteth. A sturdy lad of approximately thirteen Turns, he was accompanied by the much-younger Fredal, a mere slip of a girl Impressed by green Kushoth.

Trying not to appear too taken aback, Shaya gestured to the seats next to her on the bench. She was the only one seated at this table. Although the rest of the folk in the dining hall appeared involved with breaking their fast, Shay could sense thirteen pairs of eyes at another table populated by her fellows now trained upon her and her new companions.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Shaya asked simply, aware that a hint of a defensive tone coloured her words.

To this, as he seated himself, F'dar replied: "I'm tired of this business between you and us. I never agreed to hostilities."

"We were scared of Darissa," Fredal piped up.

"I'm not scared of that wherry-hen," F'dar sniped, shooting a venomous look at the other table. "I just think this whole situation is foolish. Basteth agrees. He likes Suteth. So does Kushoth. And we're not scared of Ulmanoth, either. And we don't like the fact that Darissa has so much influence over Ulmanoth's rider."

"All right," Shaya trailed, unconvinced. "Then who pissed in my bed?"

"Darissa got J'no and D'gen to do it," Fredal whispered, looking over her shoulder nervously.

"Great. Now the bronzes are involved," Shaya retorted. "Who else?"

F'dar opened his mouth, looked over his shoulder, then spoke: "Well, Darissa's got to the other greens of the clutch."

"Not me!" Fredal squeaked, imploring with her blue eyes wide open.

"No, not Fredal, of course, but Laree, yes. The blues are too scared, apart from me and the browns wouldn't dare go against their betters."

Shaya sighed.

F'dar continued: "I don't mean to upset you but ever since the Weyrwoman gave her little speech the other day, I've realised that by not actually showing you any support I'm just as bad as the rest. You'll see, some of the others will come 'round."

"Thanks," Shaya said, unable to hide the sarcasm from her voice.

"I don't care what your da did," Fredal said suddenly.

Shaya snorted. "Well, that makes a difference I'd bet. Now I have a champion who can't be older than what, nine Turns?

"Ten Turns!" the small girl squeaked, almost standing up from her seat.

"Aren't you a little young to have stood for Candidate?"

"I didn't stand as a Candidate! I was there with my mother to see the Hatching."

"Oh… So you're the one who Impressed the green that refused all the Candidates? I thought that that was Laree?"

Initial prickles aside, and, in spite of her misgivings, Shaya felt herself warming up to this unlikely pair. She had to admire their pluck, but found it almost impossible to maintain her initial, stand-offish behaviour.

"Tell me more," Shaya said, before thanking the drudge who served their porridge with a curt nod of her head.

The diminutive Fredal grinned as F'dar ruffled the girl's tousled dark brown bangs.

"You should have seen the looks on some of the Lords Holder's faces," F'dar laughed.

"'S _my_ story!" Fredal exclaimed. "My mother is Journeyman Healer Salfrenia. We came to Benden with some Traders because Mother wanted to spend time with her aunt." Then she leant over and said to both of them in a conspiratorial whisper: "My grandaunt is Fessli but don't tell anyone, all right?"

"I already know that! Stupid!" F'dar laughed, pinching Fredal's arm hard enough to make her squeak and twist in his grip.

"Kushoth's going to bite you for that!"

F'dar stuck out his tongue and Shaya could no longer hold in the peal of giggles that she had shored up until now. Half a dozen faces turned in their direction once again, but Fredal took a deep breath, leaned close again, and continued.

"I'm too young to be Searched but we were sitting close to the sands. Everyone was concentrating on the dark egg that they thought was rotten. Ooops! Sorry Shaya."

"I'm sure that Suteth will appreciate the fact that she's the bad egg in the clutch," smiled Shaya as she sensed her dragon's mirth at that statement.

Fredal swallowed a large spoonful of her breakfast, then said: "Well there was this little green and no one was paying her any attention 'cos that was when the bad egg started rocking and Kiranth started acting funny. It was all mad because then Aunt Fessli said it was better that everyone gets out of the Hatching Grounds completely even though the hatching wasn't finished."

"That must have been when she stopped communicating with the Weyrwoman," Shaya mused.

"What?" F'dar queried, clearly confused.

"I'll tell you later," Shaya said. "I'd like to hear more. I was too late as I'd been sorting tubers in the stores when it all started."

"And you missed the first Hatching in four Turns," F'dar remarked.

"Aye, don't remind me," Shaya muttered darkly.

"If you people don't mind?" Fredal huffed. "I was telling my story! Well, this little green dragon got stepped on by one of the Candidates who panicked, which only made Kiranth more angry. Everyone started running all over the place and it was complete madness. I felt so sorry for the little green because all the Candidates had been rushed off the sands and we all know what happens when dragonets don't Impress."

"Mmmm," mumbled Shaya through a mouthful of rapidly cooling porridge.

"Well," continued Fredal. "I jumped over the railing. I thought well I'm so little the queen won't see me and the rest… well, it's history. Kushoth was very happy."

"Oh, and you're forgetting something," F'dar chuckled. With a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes he leant even closer, so that the three companions' foreheads brushed against each other. "You should have heard the commotion when Fredal arrived at the feeding room. I don't think anyone's ever Impressed this young. And the looks of horror on some of the Candidates' faces… the ones who'd turned tail when Kiranth went all blustery."

"They didn't deserve Kushoth!" Fredal exclaimed, slamming her spoon down hard on the table so that mugs of klah hopped. "They're scareder than wherries around a sleeping dragon!"

Shaya and F'dar both burst out laughing at Fredal's sudden outpouring.

"What's done is done. The dragon's Impressed," F'dar stated. "I must admit that out on the sands I didn't think that for one moment that I'd get lucky, but my Basteth only had eyes for me the instant he cracked his shell. He pushed past three other Candidates to reach me." F'dar settled back, eyes half-closed, quite obviously reliving his experience on the sands.

Shaya said: "I wish I could have seen all that. I never even heard the dragons humming. The first I found out was when I brought my last basket of tubers up to the kitchens and Mara told me the basics. Up until now I've never had much contact with dragonriders. I always thought I would be lucky if I could become a cook."

"You like cooking?" Fredal asked, her eyes widening so much that Shaya thought for a moment that the orbs would tumble from their sockets.

"Strangely, yes. My mother used to cook and when… Well, after she died there wasn't anyone else who had the inclination."

"Bateth saved me from being a drudge for the rest of my life," said F'dar quietly. "My parents had been Holdless for six Turns after the drought up near Keroon forced them out of their cot-hold. We'd been wandering for three Turns until Andina agreed to take us in here at Benden. At least I now have a chance to do more than grub an existence out of the dirt or clean other people's weyrs. Once I start earning some marks, I'll make sure that my parents can go and live in some quiet hold. It hasn't been easy."

"What wing do you want to join," Shaya inquired.

"I hope that there's a place on the courier and transport wing. Basteth may not be as big as the browns that they usually take on, but he'll be fast," F'dar answered.

"I was going to be a healer but I'm still going to learn," Fredal piped up. "I'm going to be a sweeprider."

Both turned expectantly to Shaya, indicating that she tell them more.

"I… I don't know what I want. Maybe I'll see where the Weyr needs me most. I'm just happy to be here and that I have Suteth. She can be… a bit difficult… at times."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Pern, its dragons and their riders belong to Anne McCaffrey. I'm just thankful that she allows us to play in her world.**

XXX

The new quarters we are given are a blessing. I particularly enjoy the ledge that catches the early morning light. My eye heals in no time and so do most of my minor scrapes. Within a sevenday, we settle into a routine with no more untoward incidents. In the mornings we are fed, bathed and oiled. Then, we retire to bask while our riders attend their lessons before we are fed and exercised in the afternoons. Sometimes I pay attention to Shaya's lectures and am particularly fascinated in the history dating to Pern's founding and subsequent post-AIVAS revival. I dose and dream about the stars and what lies beyond.

Mostly, I begin to marvel and appreciate my memory. My siblings simply don't remember unless their riders dwell upon certain topics. I wonder what twist of fate has led me down this evolutionary path that may break with our designer's grand plan for our species.

So, I dumb myself down. Since Shaya's experience with dragons is limited, I don't think she suspects too much except when I give her a hard time, which is inevitable with this stubborn little wretch who complains to me often… sometimes without meaning to when she compares herself to the other weyrlings.

I make an effort to behave as my clutch mates, joining in their silly games and even occasionally bowing my head to pale gold Ulmanoth, who takes foolish pride in my seeming subservience.

Although my link to Kiranth has always been strong, I do find it incredibly difficult to influence the other dragons in this manner. No, I must be clever about this and win their affection. It is not enough that I, the black gold, have memory. I must be all that these dragons are and, when the time is right, I can be more.

In the meanwhile, I thrive beneath the care of these humans and I soon outgrow even the larger herdbeasts in size. Soon I will fly!

Ah, and as the sevendays pass, my popularity with my siblings swings. At first, is green Kushoth and blue Basteth, but between my subtle prompting and their riders, very soon the riders of blue Azamith, blue Winath and brown Veth follow suit. The clutch has split into two camps and a modicum of peace is maintained, with neither group willing to upset the balance. And, judging by how bronze Darenath eyes me, I think my former foe will soon be joining us. If the human ability to smile was physiologically possible to my kind, I'd be grinning like a drunk human at this point.

XXX

"They are becoming quite big now," F'dar commented the afternoon before the mid-summer Gather.

"Five months old and tomorrow is the day that I celebrate being eleven Turns," Fredal pointed out.

"A midsummer baby! I wonder what your parents got up to when things became chilly during autumn!" Shaya cackled, earning a swift kick in her shin from F'dar.

The three friends rested on a grassy hillock overlooking the sapphire depths of the lake, watching their dragons sport in the water. It was a rare day that the weyrlingmaster gave his weyrlings time off and the youngsters made the best of this opportunity by doing as little as possible.

Quite a number of the Weyr's adult dragons now spiralled lazily in the sky above, and Shaya and her companions lay on their backs to watch the beasts.

"I see Kiranth there with her mate," F'dar said, frowning with concentration.

"Too high to tell," Shaya commented. "They really just look like little specks to me. No! Wait! You're right. Imagine if we could fly so high."

"I can see a knot of greens. Wow! All nine of ours and four blues," exclaimed Fredal. "There, by our right. They're doing some complicated aerial stunts. Amazing!"

"Shards! You're right!" F'dar added, jumping to his feet to peer skywards. "What I would give to have one of those tele-far-seeing thingummies they're making at the Smith Hall."

Indeed, the other weyrlings currently relaxing by the lake also stopped whatever they were doing in order to look up at the dragons that circled above.

Shaya said: "Aren't we glad that the dragons are so closely bonded to us? It would be another thing if they weren't."

Fredal shuddered and then resumed watching the soaring dragons. A sudden commotion by the lake drew their attention back to the earth. The young dragons had begun a romping game of chase, with Suteth at the forefront of activity, galloping awkwardly after brown Veth and scattering greens and blues to either side. From the lakeside the small group of juvenile dragons frolicked their way up a grassy slope not far from where Shaya and her companions sat.

There, the dragons paused, dipping their heads and raising them rapidly while huffing from their exertion, reminding Shaya almost of a herd of young runnerbeasts at play. Their eyes whirled rapidly between green and blue and they became quite quiet as they centred round the dark queen, who, from her dominating stance, appeared to be telling the other dragons something.

Blue Basteth then spread his wings, making space around him among his brethren. He stretched his neck and whuffed explosively, scenting the air and quivering with barely repressed excitement. The muscles bunched beneath his gleaming sapphire hide and, with his hesitation gone, he made a short run down the slope towards the water. They heard an audible snap, as if sails filled with wind, and the young dragon tucked his limbs to his body and glided a short distance before splashing down.

"Oh my!" Fredal exclaimed. "They're starting to fly!"

F'dar's gaze grew distant as he communed with Basteth and then he crowed with delight. "We're not even due to start this training yet!"

Soon, the other dragons in the group followed Basteth's example and, within less than a quarter of a candlemark, it wasn't just Suteth's cabal gliding and flapping. Soon the entire clutch had mastered the art of a short hop and glide into the lake.

Older riders paused in their duties to watch the spectacle of flapping and splashing young dragons, many with broad smiles of appreciation on their faces as they encountered some of the less co-ordinated dragons performing spectacular landings in the water that sent up enormous amounts of spray.

"At least for now, we're not in trouble for anything," Shaya beamed.

"Speak for yourself," F'dar laughed.

Fredal, however, tugged on Shaya's sleeve and said in a low voice. "Not all the riders are happy. See there. I recognise that man, V'ton. He didn't have very nice things to say to T'lenek about me and Kushoth Impressing."

A chill passed through Shaya as she glanced at where Fredal gestured. V'ton. Suteth had always had less than flattering things to say about the man's brown Sorkath and she felt a shift of nausea in her stomach thinking of V'ton's son, Jeram. In the past few months she hadn't seen much of Jeram, except at a distance. Generally the weyrbrats had little, if any contact with the weyrlings – even usually dining at different times due to their varying schedules. She'd hoped to fool herself that the boy now avoided her but, judging by the scowl on his father's features as he glowered at the cavorting young dragons, the problem presented by Suteth clearly was not far from his mind. When younger (and smaller) Suteth had actually shown genuine fear whenever V'ton and his dragon had been near. Suteth always refused to elaborate, however, but intimated that it had much to do with Shaya's Impression of the dark queen.

On her own, Shaya didn't have much causing her to favour the man purely because of his offspring. She shuddered, and hoped silently that her sudden premonition of trouble did not result in similar trouble to that fateful day in the tunnels.

She'd put much of her early time as a weyrling behind her, as well as that day when Jeram and Benno had beaten her. Much like other aspects of her past, she chose not to think about these things, thereby allowing fruitless speculation to hold of her time. When she and Father had been roving, it had been far simpler to focus on the immediate, pressing problems they faced than to dwell upon bad things that had happened, or could still happen far ahead in the future.

It was as if she could still hear his voice: "Shaya, we are more than these people who cower beneath the Lords Holder. We have not been Searched by the dragons. We have no great Crafts to set us apart from the ordinary folk. No accident of birth bequeathed us with lands and titles. Why should we bow our heads to some fat lord who drapes himself in fine linens? We are not drudges. Is the bounty of Pern not there for the taking? There will come a time when the lords of this land and sky will realise that their position is only so might because we, the common folk, are the ones who allow them to be there."

A tightness constricted Shaya's chest. Someone nudged her.

"Shaya! Shaya! Look!"

It was Fredal, gesturing. Suteth had scrabbled to the top of the slope again and had reared up onto her hindquarters, spreading her wings out in a great fan. Where the sun struck her wing membranes, they gleamed, transmitting the light. Her siblings appeared to stand in awe of this display as the sunlight played on the metallic black contours of her hide, alternating with flashes of greenish gold at certain angles. The dragons' eyes whirled blue as she stretched out her neck and trumpeted, pumping her wings so hard that Shaya and her companions could feel the air move even where they sat.

Then, the moment passed and the young dragons broke the silence with a confused knot of romping bodies that headed back towards the lake that ended in a multitude of explosions in the water as they tussled with each other.

F'dar whistled: "There's something else about how your dragon behaves. She puts Ulmanoth to shame."

Shaya nodded, distracted, then looked to where V'ton had been standing, but the man had gone. She hoped that he had not seen Suteth's display, but another voice, her own doubt, whispered otherwise.

Much later, as Shaya walked from the dining hall, T'lenek waylaid her. The tall man seemed agitated and Shaya quailed.

"I haven't done anything wrong, Weyrlingmaster?"

"No no no!" he exclaimed, pushing his seeing glasses higher up onto the bridge of his nose. "I spoke to Fessli and she says that there was something unusual happening by the lake concerning your dragon. I'm so sorry that I missed it but I hear that our youngsters have taken it upon themselves to begin flying."

"Oh, yes!" Shaya laughed, almost embarrassed. "We didn't train for that, did we!"

"But your dragon was seen instructing the others," T'lenek added.

_Silly siblings bore me sometimes. I make new games._

Shaya gasped at her sudden awareness that Suteth had been paying attention to this conversation. When she'd left her quarters before the evening meal this evening, the young dragon had been sound asleep.

Shaya held her hand in front of her mouth, trying to hide her amusement. T'lenek cocked his head to one side and regarded her with a look of puzzlement flitting across his features.

"What?" he asked.

"She says that she tires of the normal games that her siblings play and makes new ones."

"Oh," said T'lenek, somewhat gruffly. "Ah, well, keep an eye out then if she does anything else untoward. Good night lass."

He nodded affably and strode away.

_Ask him_ Suteth prompted.

"Weyrlingmaster!" Shaya called out, dashing after T'lenek.

The man paused and turned to face her, his wild hair haloed by a glow basket's gleam.

"Shaya?"

"I meant to ask you something." And then, in a hushed tone, Shaya asked: "We saw V'ton by the lake today. We worry. Well… He has had a less than charitable opinion of Suteth, as well as a few others."

She trailed off suddenly, wide-eyed with fright that she'd said too much – a sense of foreboding that was amplified by a hardening of the weyrlingmaster's expression.

"Shaya… This is not… Something appropriate for a weyrling to discuss." He looked uncomfortable. "Don't question your elders. At least not until you've graduated. Good night!"

With that, the man spun on his heel and strode off, making it quite clear to Shaya that he no longer wished to discuss the topic. A nasty feeling surged in Shaya's belly and all the day's joy leached from her. He was sure to discuss this with Fessli. What if they put her back with the other weyrlings as punishment?

_Don't be so foolish _snapped Suteth's voice in her mind. _You're too soft, rider mine._

_What do you know?_ Shaya answered dejectedly as she turned to trace her path back to her weyr.

_The weyrlingmaster's scared. I could sense it. You were right to mention V'ton. I smell trouble._

Shaya queried: _Are you certain?_

_Don't you have eyes in your skull?_ Suteth replied tartly.

"You're not helping, Suteth," Shaya stated as she entered her quarters. All she could see of her dragon in the dimly lit chamber was a pair of rapidly whirling eyes, yellow, tinged with green.

_For a human of almost fourteen Turns you're remarkably scared of adults. Why worry? You have me. I won't let anyone hurt you and you know that I'm not like the other dragons. Very soon they won't touch you._

A strange feeling, almost a premonition, washed over Shaya.

"Suteth, heart of my heart, that is _exactly_ what I worry about."


	16. Chapter 16

**Standard disclaimer: Pern and its dragonriders belong to Anne McCaffrey, who's so kind as to allow us to play in her world.**

**Thank you for all your encouraging words, to those who've read and reviewed my work so far. This gives me much encouragement for my novel that I'm writing.**

XXX

The day by the lake counts as a minor victory for me. This is the day that I finally win over the admiration of my clutchmates. It is a perfect day. The air's temperature is sultry in the late afternoon and it is offset nicely by lake water that is not too frigid. However, when I look up, I see many of the Weyr's dragons soaring overhead.

Oh, to fly. So far none of my clutchmates have even discussed flying. As such, we occasionally rise on our hindquarters and beat our wings until we almost lift off the ground but there have been no attempts to actually get off the ground. I want to be up there. I want to feel the rush of rarified air flowing through my nostrils. I want to feel my wing membranes stretch to their limit, clasping the sky.

I see the world briefly flash through Kiranth's eyes and my heart beats a little faster.

When the idea springs to mind, it's not hard explaining my plan to Basteth, my little blue shadow. The game proves popular and soon we are all engaged in the short leap and glide to the waters. This gives me the sense and the dawning realization that my wings' muscles are not yet strong enough to carry my weight and I am almost disenheartened by the amount of work that will go into becoming fit enough to fly and lift my full weight from ground's grasp.

We soon have quite an audience and it amuses me that we can stop nearly all the Weyr's activities with our antics. Even some of the older dragons basking up on the ledges watch us, their eyes swirling blue with pleasure. It has been a long time since a queen has clutched and young dragons haven't been seen to provide this much entertainment in many Turns.

Shaya's later conversation with T'lenek leaves me unsettled. From his mind I sense a deep-rooted unease. Something nasty is afoot in Benden Weyr and I know not what. The ease with which I was able to stretch my awareness as a young dragonet is not so pronounced anymore. Whether this is from growing older or with disuse, I'm not sure. It is almost as if a heavy membrane curtains my mind since Impressing Shaya.

Shaya's unhappy now but I also realise that tomorrow is the much-anticipated midsummer Gather day where I am fairly certain that much general silliness will prevail if I compare it to previous Gathers – only this one is far larger. According to the watchdragons up on the heights, traders have been arriving for the past sevenday and there is already a considerable collection of tents and stalls set up on the common before Benden's gates.

XXX

Shaya awoke to a muffled squeal and a thud as something heavy landed on top of her. She sat up, or at least tried to, with a start.

"Fredal!" she exclaimed as the smaller girl's mischievous face appeared as she pulled back the sleeping furs. "Shards! You almost made my heart stop!"

Fredal grinned broadly. "Morning sleepyhead! You won't believe what my mother sent me!"

Shaya knuckled her eyes. "Mmmm… What?"

"A firelizard egg!"

"All right…" Shaya replied, impressed.

"Master Tenabar is keeping it by his hearth while the shell hardens but I'm to check up on it three times a day and I'm not supposed to tell anyone else says Aunt Fessli. You know… Darissa and her friends… And the fact that you and me are friends is, well, you know…"

"Uh-huh," nodded Shaya.

_Food!_ Demanded Suteth. _You two sit and gabble like a pair of old wherries. Food! Now!_

"She's hungry!" Shaya exclaimed, looking at her dragon.

"They're always hungry," laughed Fredal. "I'll wait for you outside. I hope you haven't forgotten what today is?"

"It's a Gather day!" Shaya slapped her forehead.

_Food!_

"All right! All right!" she shot at Suteth, who already sat up on her haunches. "But I don't have any marks to spend…" Shaya trailed, looking at Fredal.

"Don't worry," Fredal replied. "I'll buy you a bubbly pie or three. I received a little extra on my allowance from my mother. This will be my treat. You did after all help me out a sevenday ago when Darissa…"

"Euwwww… yes… I know but it's not like I expect payment for that," Shaya said, remembering how the older greenrider had tripped Fredal up after their noon meal.

With that, the small girl skipped out of Shaya's weyr and Suteth snorted and stretched sinuously, her claws screeching on the stone floor. Shaya pulled on a sleeveless tunic with an old pair of brown leggings – the rest of her clothing had been sent to the laundry. Today, everyone would be decked out in their Gather day best, she reflected. Most of her clothing was of a utilitarian nature and was hardly flattering. She clasped her worn leather belt around her waist. It had been Father's, a heavy wher-hide belt he'd taken from a lord holder's son. She paused to trace the intricate, stylised firelizard designs etched into the leather. This was all tangible reminder that she had of him. That, and the belt knife she kept in the wooden chest that stood at the foot of her bed.

"All right, you overgrown firelizard," Shaya said to Suteth, laughing as the dragon snorted with disgust. "Let's go and fill you with meat."

Suteth ducked her head and padded out after Shaya, remaining close to her rider, her claws snicking on the stone floor. Fredal giggled and skipped ahead of the pair, clearly unable to suppress her general mood. Shaya couldn't help but notice that the girl wore a new, emerald green overtunic over a pair of charcoal leggings – also new. What must it be like to have people give you gifts when you became a Turn older? Granted, Shaya lacked for nothing in the Weyr but what clothing she owned was not the fine stuff that Fredal wore so carelessly.

In fact, come to think of it, Shaya wasn't ever sure that she knew what day she celebrated her birth. She knew it was in autumn and that was about it. Father hadn't placed much importance in those things.

Good naturedly, Fredal chattered on about weyr gossip while Shaya fed Suteth. So far, her dragon had not dignified Shaya's earlier comments with any reaction and behaved much like any other hungry dragon, eyeing fresh chunks of meat with great anticipation between swallowing earlier portions.

"She's grown quite large," Fredal commented.

"I know," Shaya beamed, unable to hide her pride. "So much for her difficult start. Give her a few more sevenday and she may even outstrip Ulmanoth."

_Ulmanoth is only an ordinary gold_ Suteth said, stretching her wings so that Fredal had to duck out of the way.

"I heard that!" Fredal giggled.

"Hey!" Shaya laughed, batting Suteth's neck playfully. "I'm going to get jealous if you keep talking to Fredal."

Suteth snorted, her eyes whirling green and blue.

_I will go and join Basteth and Kushoth on the ledges. Don't eat too many bubbly pies or they will cause indigestion like the last time when F'dar ended up winning his bet._

"Tsk, Suteth, you're not my keeper," Shaya said. "I can eat however many bubbly pies come my way!"

_Don't say that I didn't warn you. You're not the one who had to put up with your groaning the entire night after the last Gather._

"What's that all about?" Fredal asked as the dark queen padded away.

"Tsk, Suteth playing the mother wherry with me," Shaya chuckled, shaking her head. "I swear she becomes more and more like Andina bossing around the drudges, the bigger she gets."

"Ah, well, at least she is looking out for you," Fredal laughed.

After Shaya finished rinsing off her hands, the two girls set out for the Gather grounds. Already, as they wended their way through Benden's halls and passages, they could hear the muted rumble of many people.

"It's a big one!" Fredal exclaimed, looking up at Shaya.

As they exited from the Weyr's main entrance, Shaya at first found herself overwhelmed by the need to hang back in the safety provided by the Weyr's great doors.

"C'mon Shaya! I can smell the bubbly pies from here," Fredal implored, tugging on the older girl's hand.

"So many people!" Shaya exclaimed, her breath catching in her throat.

"It's not like it's your first Gather," Fredal interjected, tugging at Shaya's hand even more firmly. "You'll see, they won't even notice us."

But, if previous Benden Gathers had been big, in Shaya's mind, this one outstripped her expectations. A veritable tented town sprawled for many dragonlengths on the flat meadows that fronted the Weyr's imposing heights. Banners of rainbow hues fluttered and snapped in the light breeze that wafted the scents of roasting meat, runner beast, spices and, yes, bubbly pies.

"C'mon!" Fredal said, exasperation easy to hear in her tone. "F'dar's probably already waiting for us."

Shaya nodded, wiped her damp palms on her trousers and followed her companion into the confusion of tents that thronged with more people she'd ever faced. What she had not been prepared for, however, was the random comments that she overheard as her diminutive friend dragged her through knots of folk.

"It's that bandit lord's daughter."

"That's the one whose father killed Sh'den."

"Can't believe they allowed her to stand as a Candidate."

"They say that's she's a trouble-maker like her da."

Shaya swallowed hard. Granted, she'd heard some mutterings on previous Gather days but there'd never been as many people here. Surely the novelty of Benden Weyr accepting the daughter of one of Pern's most notorious brigands in living memory would have worn off after nearly a full Turn? Evidently not, for Shaya was well aware of some of the cold stares that fell on her with disapproving frowns.

She was about to suggest to Fredal that she turn back when a warm hand closed on her shoulder, causing her to reach for a belt knife that she hadn't worn for a long time. She turned to face non other than S'man, whose eyes danced merrily as he beheld her.

"Weyrleader!" she exclaimed.

"Shaya. Fredal. Well met. Fessli has asked that I check up to see that the two of you are behaving yourselves."

Shaya felt herself colour deeply at the young man's attention. All her words drained from her mouth and she allowed the Weyrleader to guide her and Fredal through the throng. She found herself uncomfortably aware of S'man's masculinity and the fact that, apart from a musky scent about – obviously an expensive gift from one of the Lords Holder or a trader, that there was an underlying spiciness to him that she realised must be the smell of Tarth, that clung to his clothing, for instead of wearing his Gather day best, he was dressed in his riding gear that, though worn, was at least clean. The light pressure of his fingers on her shoulder burnt, as if coals had been pressed into her skin but, glancing to her side, she saw that he herded Fredal in a similar manner.

"Fessli would like to wish you on your birthing day," S'man said to Fredal.

"But she already spoke to me last night," Fredal protested. "I want to buy some bubbly pies."

S'man laughed heartily at this, throwing back his head so that waves of his dark blond hair spilt over his shoulders.

"I'm sure that they're baking many batches of bubbly pies," Shay ventured, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Oh, to have a grandaunt… She was just grateful that S'man had not shooed her away and that she would be included in this family gathering.

She had to admit that S'man's presence brought an advantage, as the festival goers parted before them and, although eyes darted worriedly to Shaya, somehow S'man's obvious approval of Shaya softened some of the ire that was directed at her. Fredal appeared unaware of any of the undercurrents and Shaya felt happy that the girl babbled away endlessly about random subjects that ranged from her firelizard egg to what S'man's favourite colour runner beast was.

Weyrwoman Fessli sat in Benden's chief vintner's tent – a rather grand affair of light blue tanned hide filled with a veritable ransom of finely carved wooden tables and chairs. There would be no mean trestle tables and benches for Master Vintner Embar, a spry old man of sixty-odd Turns who sat next to Fessli, regaling her about some odd tale that had her eyes twinkling.

She looked up to great S'man, a warm smile dancing across her features that spoke of genuine affection, as the young man approached the table with his two charges.

"Ah, S'man, you bring my grand niece and Shaya. Yes, come sit; be comfortable. You look agitated girl, what is it?"

"We were supposed to meet F'dar at the bubbly pies stall," Fredal said, her brows knotting.

Fessli chuckled, then held a faraway look in her eyes, clearly bespeaking Kiranth.

"Kiranth's spoken to Basteth. Your friend will be here shortly."

A good portion of their morning ended up being spent with the Weyrwoman and her mate. Fessli quite clearly deeply for her grand niece and Shaya almost felt small twinges of jealousy stir in her belly as she watched their easy banter. She found herself isolated at the table, as S'man and F'dar fell to discussing the runnerbeasts that were to race later that morning, as well as whether Ista Weyr's team for the games would break Benden's so far unbeaten record.

Fessli spoke to her grand niece mainly about news from Salfrenia, who had now been stationed at Landing, where she researched the Ancients' surgery and healing techniques. Oddly enough, Shaya noted, it did not seem that her mother's absence bothered Fredal all too much, who spent much time babbling on about firelizards.

More often than not, Shaya caught herself glancing in S'man's direction, unable to prevent herself from studying him. Although he clearly had a few years to fill out, he promised to be an imposing man, with finely chiselled feature and a broad smile that was more than ready to dance to his lips.

These thoughts bothered Shaya immensely. She'd never looked at any man in that way and felt that it was somehow wrong of her to regard the Weyrleader in this fashion. Feeling colour rise to her cheeks, Shaya instead concentrated on the remains of her breakfast, nibbling at the crust of the slice of bread that still lurked on her plate. It was better not to let anyone else know of her feelings. Tarth had flown Kiranth and who was she to think otherwise?

Their release from the Weyrwoman's breakfast table couldn't come soon enough. It was midmorning by the time Shaya, Fredal and F'dar slipped into the crowds, their hunger at least assuage for the time being. They wandered around for a while, examining wares that they could not afford at stalls, including leather goods from Keroon, finely spun yarns, tapestries and furs from the north. Traders sold dishes heavily flavoured with spices from the south that made their mouths water, even though others sampling the food made ample warning that some spices had more than enough heat.

After Fredal treated her friends to the much-anticipated bubbly pies – the tart sweetness staining their lips – they went to see the pens where the prize runner- and herdbeasts waited patiently. They met a number of the older weyrlings here and, by the look of things, some of them held a mark or two to spend on the races.

Overhead, firelizard fairs banked and dived, glittering in the warmth of the sun. Shaya wished that she had a hat and realised that she could quite easily burn bright red this day if she spent further time away from the relative shelter provided by the stalls' colourful awnings.

Runnerbeasts of many shades and breeds snorted and stamped in their enclosures. F'dar's neck probably hurt from him turning his head so often and Shaya found herself wondering about men's need to have such an interest in the animals. Fredale also appeared bored and eventually nudged Shaya in the ribs.

"C'mon, let's go back. I want to show you the egg," Fredal said, crinkling her nose. "Besides, it stinks here."

"We're going, F'dar," Shaya stated.

The red-headed boy turned around and waved them off. "Run away then, you're missing the best part. The races are about to start."

"Men!" Fredal exclaimed, rolling her eyes in imitation of the older women they'd seen doing the same and Shaya couldn't prevent herself from laughing out loud at the girl. They turned their backs on the runnerbeasts, linked arms and made their way back to the Weyr.

As they were about to leave the stalls, the two girls found their way blocked. Darissa, looking every inch the Lord Holder's daughter in a revealing dress of fine-spun green fabric laughed at the two younger girls. This in itself would not have presented a problem if it had not been for the fact that she was accompanied by a half-dozen others her own age, clearly her peers, judging by the manner in which they dressed.

Shaya looked around wildly. The folk who walked past the ambush were all strangers – no familiar weyrfolk stood near who could hear or care about them in their predicament. This did not seem to perturb Fredal, who stood up straight, arms akimbo.

"Let us pass, Darissa. We'd like to go back to the Weyr."

"Only if you pay a small fee," Darissa sneered. "Denven here reckons your pet criminal has something that belongs to his late brother."

A tall, gangly youth stepped forward. Shaya frowned at him. He bore himself with the self-assured arrogance of one well used to being obeyed at every turn. Although his well-formed features and strong chin could be considered handsome by some, Shaya detected a cruelty in his eyes that caused her to once again reach for a non-existent belt knife.

"You have the belt our father gave my eldest brother when he reached his majority," Denven stated, so tense that he shook.

"My father gave this to me before he died," Shaya retorted. "You have plenty of your own. Let me at least keep this small memory."

"Your father was nothing more than a common criminal."

"He was still my father," Shaya stood as tall as she could, glaring at the young lordling who, it turned out, was not so sure of himself now.

"Give it to me now!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting from side to side to his friends.

"Go and hump a herdbeast," Shaya spat, feeling a rage fill her limbs to the point that she felt like throwing up.

The young man lunged suddenly at Shaya, trying to grab her around her waist. Her reflexes saved her, however and she ducked under his grasp and he was only able to catch hold of her one arm. She used his momentum to push him to the ground, surprising herself when the young man sprawled swearing into the dust. So, all that sparring with her father's younger band members had paid dividends… but there was not time to reflect. Even as Denven struggled to his feet, Fredal laughed and clapped her hands with glee.

"Now's not the time for this, Fredal!" Shaya screamed, keeping a wary eye on the others' movements.

Denven leapt towards Shaya quicker than she anticipated, forcing her to turn and face him with his friends at her back, a great disadvantage with the likes of Darissa in her blind spot. Judging by Denven's stance, he'd had some training in unarmed combat, which she found quite bothering considering that he stood at least a head or two taller than her.

"You won't get so lucky a second time you little tunnel snake," he spat.

"Do you enjoy picking on little girls?" Shaya replied, trying to keep an eye on Denven while Darissa's group shuffled behind her and to her left. She needed to get out of this situation.

_Suteth, bespeak Kiranth. Tell her what's happening._

She sensed her dragon's assent and wondered how soon help would arrive. Denven lunged at her again and she would have been able to dodge the glancing blow that struck her head properly if someone's foot hadn't snagged her own. She saw a swirl of green fabric before she connected with the ground so hard that she lay momentarily stunned. Darissa!

Although breathless from the impact, Shaya nonetheless squirmed, trying to sit up as many pairs of hands grabbed hold of her. A foot connected painfully with her ribs and Shaya grabbed onto it in spite of how much she hurt. She felt some satisfaction as the recognised Darissa, causing her to fall to the ground with a soft grunt.

The greenrider screamed in fury, rolling onto Shaya, her sharp fingernails gouging at Shaya's eyes. The two combatants rolled around in the dirt, locked in battle. Shaya found herself hard pressed to defend herself against her older and larger opponent, whose blows seemed punctuated by a bitter hatred.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you, you filthy scum!" Darissa shriekd in her face.

Suddenly the girl let go of Shaya and sat bolt upright on her haunches.

"Tanarith! Nooooo!"

Darissa gave a heartrending scream, clutched her face, then fell over in a dead faint. An eerie silence descended on the Gather as first one and then another dragon began keening – a sound that sliced into the spines of all able to hear.

Shaya sat up, dazed, feeling something warm trickle down her brow, the scratchmarks on her face burning. From Suteth she sensed triumph and grim satisfaction. Shaya tasted copper in her mouth and looked down at Darissa. Were those bite marks on the young woman's neck?

Fredal stood absolutely still, her hand held up to her cheek and the other young people milled about, quite clearly terrified.

T'lenek, the first person with any rank, appeared on the scene, his face set in a grim expression and his mouth drawn in a tight, bloodless line. He assessed the situation quickly.

_What have you done?_ Shaya begged of her dragon, not quite believing what she suspected.

_What should have been done many sevendays and months ago,_ Suteth replied, without any hint of remorse.

_You've killed Tanarith._

_She was smaller than me. It was no great feat._

Tears coursed down Shaya's cheeks. This was all so wrong. It was all so incredibly bad. She found herself jerked roughly to her feet by the weyrlingmaster and nothing kind showed in his expression. He dragged her to stumble after him towards the Weyr and she almost fell a number of times when her feet caught against tent pegs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fredal, who looked so pale that Shaya wondered if the girl would faint. She wanted to be sick. A few folk knelt down before Darissa. She saw Master Tenabar arrive just as T'lenek marched her around a corner.

Once they'd arrived in T'lenek's quarters, the weyrlingmaster released Shaya violently.

"Sit!" he ordered, pointing at one of the chairs. "Explain yourself!"

The man shook with fury and removed his seeing glasses, polishing them vigorously on his sleeve before glaring at Shaya. She gulped.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Pern and its dragonriders belong to Anne McCaffrey who's been so kind as to allow us to play in her world.**

XXX

To be honest, I've been a bit wherry-headed. I should have seen this coming. Instead, I'd been basking with my clutch-mates, pretty certain that the day would pass without incident.

The first indication that something is amiss happens when Tanarith sits up suddenly, her eyes whirling a dangerous orange and red. Then, Shaya's call for me to contact my dam – which I do instantly, conveying the situation with alacrity. Shaya's grown bold in this time and I am pleased to see how well she defends her right to keep an item given to her by her father.

However, when Darissa muddies the battle it makes me angry. She interferes and I realise then and there that Shaya's rival is, in all probability, the one who engineered this little encounter. Tanarith isn't even ready to defend herself when I attack in response to Darissa's threats to my rider's safety. I am able to latch onto the smaller dragon's windpipe so easily that the tissue is crushed as I close my jaws. I feel my teeth meet through the flesh and finish by giving my unfortunate opponent a good shake. Tanarith goes limp and triumph surges through me.

I don't understand why Shaya is so upset by this. I have deemed my action necessary but now come to the conclusion that I may have caused her far more trouble than that scuffle would have. But it had to be done! No one threatens the girl's life if I can help it.

Tanarith is only a green, after all. She has nothing to contribute to our kind's future. Unfortunately, those in charge of Benden Weyr don't see it quite my way. Shaya is questioned first by the weyrlingmaster, then the weyrleaders. They keep us confined to our quarters with one of the older browns stationed outside at all times. No one is allowed to visit and we spend much of our time sleeping, as there is little else to do besides eating. The only excitement occurs during mealtimes or when a small team of drudges come to clean once a day.

Shaya will not look at me. She refuses to speak, even, for the first sevenday. It is during this time that I fret, as she doesn't eat much and loses much condition. I keep asking myself why I worry about her. She's only a human, after all.

It is late one night that a noise at the weyr's entrance alerts me that someone is afoot. I rumble in my throat and Shaya sits up immediately. I relax when I reach out and touch Fredal's mind as the small girl enters our quarters cautiously. Casting out further, I pick up F'dar's presence where he lurks in a niche near the entrance, obviously keeping watch. Blue Baketh, our appointed guard for this evening, slumbers deeply.

Fredal sits down on the edge of Shaya's bed.

"Hey," she says quietly, reaching out a hand to Shaya, who grabs onto the small girl's fingers.

"Hey," Shaya replies, a small smile leaping to her features.

"How are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

"Thought so. I'm sorry that we couldn't make an effort to see you sooner but, it's been crazy, as you can well imagine."

Shaya nods at this. She's about to cry and Fredal's not far from doing the same. Their emotions flood this room so intensely that I begin to keen softly. Shaya looks at me, then stumbles from her bed.

"Suteth, I'm so sorry for all of this!"

I have her press her soft warmth against me and I feel dampness where her tears leak against my hide, causing me to twitch. Fredal approaches us and puts her arms around Shaya. Both girls sob convulsively. I turn my head and nuzzle both of them gently, a peculiar sense to protect these two almost overwhelming me.

"I can't stay too long," Fredal hiccoughs. "We've been placed under curfew. You have no idea how much trouble we'd be in if they caught us here. There is so much trouble in Benden already I don't even know where to begin. It looks as if this incident with you and Darissa and your dragons only caused the other problems to rise to the surface."

"What problems?"

"V'ton. He has challenged S'man's leadership. They're trying to sort things out but some of the more influential bronzeriders are backing V'ton's action."

"No doubt, if they force S'man to step down they'll stand a chance to become the next Weyrleader when Kiranth next rises," Shaya noted.

"_If_ she rises," Fredal says, wiping her eyes. "She's been taken ill. My mother has been called. We think it's her heart."

"Which leaves Nolena and Sulath as the next gold pair."

"Nolena's been seen in V'ton's company a lot," Fredal stated.

"Shards!" Shaya replies to this. "He was one of the chief antagonists when Benden declared my fostering. What now? What about us?"

Fredal looked down, shaking her head. "It's not good. At first they talked of having Suteth… Sorry Suteth!" She looks up at me, fresh tears rolling once again. "V'ton speaks of having you destroyed. Nothing like this has ever happened concerning a pair that has been considered so seriously."

I stifle a deep growl. I'm so helpless against this man who works against me! I long to sink my claws into his chest.

"What else?" Shaya exclaims.

"Don't stress so. The other dragonriders felt that this action is too severe. T'lenek keeps claiming that you two were provoked."

"What then?"

"Some talk that Suteth should be crippled so that she cannot fly and therefore won't rise to mate or fly far from Benden. Others say exile to Boulders Weyr. A few reckon that you should be given further, intense training at one of the other Weyrs so that they can evaluate you and that you're far too young to be judged a threat. Mostly there's a lot of shouting and much disagreement."

_They know nothing. They are grown soft._ I say, snorting, so that both Shaya and Fredal hear.

The girls both turn to regard me, looking up, their eyes huge.

"What now?" Shaya asks, threading her fingers in her locks. "I can't handle the not knowing for much longer. What has happened to Darissa?"

"Master Tenabar has had her sent back to Ruatha."

"I never liked her, not after what she did to me when I first joined the weyrlings, but I am sorry that Tanarith had to suffer for it," Shaya said.

_She died quickly. There was not much suffering._

"That's enough, Sutheth!" Shaya cries out, her hand slapping against my neck. "It still doesn't make it right!"

_She and her rider posed a threat to us._

Both girls shake their heads and Fredal turns to look at the door, biting her lip.

"Kushoth says that Basteth says that F'dar is hearing a group of men approach. They are carrying torches and they sound angry," Fredal said in a low voice.

Shaya freezes. "They're coming for Suteth, whether the weyrleader agrees or not."

"No!"

"Yes! I'm certain of it."

_I won't be taken_ I growl, bristling.

"I'm sure that they won't do anything," Fredal states, without convincing us.

F'dar rushes in, his red hair wild: "Someone told on us Fredal. Shaya quick! You must run!"

"Where?"

"Shards! I don't know! T'lenek, S'man, any one of those riders who will speak for you!"

Male voices echo outside off the walls.

XXX

Shaya wanted to scream. This entire situation brought back unpleasant memories of the day that the dragonriders discovered her father's last hideout.

"Go!" Shaya yelled at Fredal. "You don't want to be caught up in this!"

"It's already too late!" Fredal yelled back.

Suteth growled, barrelling between them to the entrance, practically knocking them off their feet.

_I will not be trapped like a tunnelsnake in a hole_ she broadcasted.

"No!" Shaya shouted at her dragon.

But Suteth wasn't in any mood to obey. Her eyes whirled red and she charged for the exterior. Shaya hesitated for a second, then thought better of her action, running to the wooden chest that contained her dagger.

Suteth flooded her mind with images of men, at least half a dozen, who carried torches and had armed themselves with sharpened poles and ropes. The dragon let loose a full-throated roar, causing her assailants to stumble back.

Shaya clasped the familiar hilt in her hands and stumbled out of the room, with F'dar and Fredal not far behind and as wild-eyed in their confusion as she felt at the turn of events this evening. A man screamed in gut-wrenching agony and went down as Suteth lashed out with a vicious snapping of teeth. Another man she grabbed by his shoulder, shaking him hard as if he were no more than a bundle of rags before flinging him against a wall where he sunk down to lie at an odd angle.

Their entire situation was not good. The men had formed a semi-circle, pinning Suteth against the weyr's wall. She roared again in anger and reared onto her hindquarters as one foolhardy soul thrust at her with his sharpened stick. Shaya cried out as she felt the pain slice across the dragon's chest, causing green ichor to flow.

"No! Leave her alone!" Shaya called out, placing herself between Suteth and her attacker.

"Get away from there, girl!" V'ton shouted. "Your dragon is likely to take you down as well. She's not natural. We need to make sure that she doesn't harm any others."

"She was provoked!" Shaya cried out, trying to create space between the men and Sutheth as she waved her father's dagger in an arc, the blade flashing red in the torchlight. Suteth growled deeply behind her and Shaya drew comfort from the fact that Fredal and F'dar stood nearby, albeit to one side.

"Take the children away," V'ton ordered one of his companions, a burly brownrider whose name Shaya had not learnt.

The man snatched at Shaya, who feinted to the side. Fredal bravely threw herself at the man's feet, causing him to stumble.

Many things happened simultaneously at that point. Suteth lunged forward again, raking at V'ton with her claws. F'dar blocked one of the other men's attempts at spearing the dragon and Shaya found herself leaping into the fray of struggling bodies. In the confusion she was not certain what happened. Someone wrested her knife from her grip. A man screamed in agony, a frightening, high-pitched bubbling cry that cut short with a sickening sound of tearing flesh.

"Fly Suteth! Fly!" Shaya shouted, willing with all her heart that the dragon would attempt a last-ditch escape. Strong arms pinned Shaya's hands behind her back. Another man let out a scream that was followed by a sudden implosion of air. Where Suteth had struggled only empty space existed. Suteth had gone between.

Chaos erupted in the Weyr as first one, then three other dragons trumpeted their grief, rising into the still, star-strewn sky on heavy wings to go between for the last time. The, the others began their keening, a sound that seemed to travel through the very stone with its burden of sorrow as the dragons mourned the loss of their brethren.

Shaya felt their pain, the skin on her face and arms prickling. Something else wasn't right. Then, the crippling emptiness hit home. Suteth! She couldn't feel the dragon's presence in her mind! The strong hands let her go as a paralysis crept up her legs, dropping her to the stone cobbles as she heard a confused welter of sounds tumble over her and grow tinny, as if she was no more than a pebble borne along by a mighty river.

Although the dragon's presence had not always felt evident in her mind, Suteth's absence made itself known by the sense that Shaya now found herself incomplete. She tried to say Suteth's name but only a sibilant hiss escaped her lips. Grit on the stones attached to her tongue and she tried to blink the fat drops of moisture out of her eyes. The dragon was gone.

XXX

**In case you're wondering, I'm not done yet but I'm going to leave you guessing a little while longer until I have time to type up the next chapter! (Which I've already written but it currently exists as a spidery scrawl within my notebook!)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Pern and its dragonriders belong to Anne McCaffrey who's been so kind as to let us play in her world.**

XXX

Shaya lost all sense of time's passing. Summer drifted into harvest time as trees lost the lush green of their growth period, donning the gold of autumn so that when the afternoon breeze sprang up, the trees shook their leaves in warm hues that contrasted with aquamarine skies.

Shaya lay in the infirmary. Most of the time she stared at the ceiling without seeing anything. Other times she slipped into the oblivion gifted to her by sleep. Sometimes she awoke and, without thinking, quested out with her mind, trying to touch that other awareness that now seemed locked away from her forever. She couldn't always stop the tears from running down her cheeks to soak the linen covering her pillow.

People did come to see her. She almost recognised them. A small man forced her to eat and drink. A small creature with a green hide occasionally slept by her pillow. Its smell reminded her faintly of the other; a name she dared not try on lips that had not formed words for many sevendays.

Perhaps it was the persistent dreams that began to intrude on her silence that finally forced Shaya to push away the paralysing tendrils of inertia. For too long other people had manipulated her limbs, cleaning her, feeding her and massaging muscles that did not wish to respond.

In the dreams she flew across a grey ocean, breathing in air redolent with the tang of salt. She dived deep into water that sucked against dark, basaltic rocks. Often, she gazed down on the restless, iron-grey waves from a large overhang. Confusion and a strange yearning gnawed at her belly.

Other dreams were often stranger. She'd see Benden from afar, then, leading always east, away to the sea. She revisited places that her father that her father had used as lairs, even her mother's grave. Often, she awoke to a buzzing silence raging in her head, her pillows wet. As much as she craved nothingness, she eventually came to the conclusion that she could no longer remain here.

Tenabar entered her room one morning to discover Shaya standing at the window gazing out at the slate-tiled rooftops and the lake.

"Ahh, Shaya my dear," the little man said kindly. Tiny chirped from his shoulder.

"Master Tenabar," Shaya replied quietly, turning on weak legs to face the masterhealer. "I'm so empty." Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as the healer closed the distance between them to fold Shaya in his arms. His head barely reached her collarbone but Shaya found the way he held her to be re-assuring. Tiny chirruped another query, then slipped onto Shaya's shoulder, nuzzling her ear.

"Come now my dear. You've lost too much weight. Come and sit down on your bed. We will have them send you something to eat.

Shaya stood her ground, however weak she felt, and went to gaze out of the window. "I'm tired of lying down."

"I understand, but at least sit down on the chair. You've been on your back now for the past few months. By all rights you should not even be standing due to your muscles losing so much tone."

Shaya couldn't argue with the man, however, and took his advice.

"What will become of me now?"

"Now's not the time for you to be worrying about that, lass. Tiny, go to Mara. Yes quick, quick-quick. Mara." He made eye contact with the little green firelizard, who cocked her head quizzically before lifting into the air and disappearing between with a soft pop of air.

"Ai, I hope that she gets it right this time. I've had her for five Turns now and we're starting to make some headway into explaining what I want into that pea-sized brain of hers."

Shaya sighed. "Fredal and F'dar?"

"They will visit again this evening, don't you worry. They are both well."

"The Weyrwoman?"

Tenabar's face fell. "She and Kiranth went between for the last time a little more than a month ago. She took ill… ah, well, you know what I mean."

Shock and horror chilled Shaya's blood instantly.

"Now-now, it's not as bad as you think. Nolena has all the makings of a good Weyrwoman. They say Sulath may rise soon."

"And… S'man?"

"He transferred to Boulders Weyr shortly after he had to step down… Ah but you won't know all that. There were problems, you see. Unfortunately that incident with your dragon only served as a catalyst for the inevitable, I'm sorry."

Shaya wanted to blurt out aboiut how far and lonely that Weyr was, but thought better of it and kept her mouth shut. Boulders Weyr was nothing more than an excuse for a scattering of volcanic islands quite far in the south and to the east, lost in the midst of a wild, surging grey ocean. Ostensibly the Weyr had been set up a handful of Turns ago so that dragonriders could be on hand to deliver aid to ships in distress. However, the majority of its dragonment were made up of those who could not, or would not, be welcome in any other Weyr. Boulders existed as a harsh beacon of hope in a desert of ocean, experiencing extremes of weather that would make the hardiest rider pale. One moment the sun would shine, the next, an almighty tempest could descend.

Shaya had heard all about Boulders Weyr, for it also served Packtail Rocks Hold – Pern's largest penal colony. She wondered if any one of Father's men still lived in that benighted place.

Mara entered with a covered tray and immediately embraced Shaya after placing her meal on the table. Both women found themselves overcome by emotion and it was a while before their tears dried up. Master Tenabar left them, calling tiny away from Shaya's food as he exited the room. Although Shaya was glad to see her foster mother, she realised immediately that a wide gulf had opened between them and there soon was not much that they could talk about.

"You are welcome to be my apprentice," Mara offered. "No, I'd _like_ you as my apprentice." She took both of Shaya's hands in her own. "Your hands are so cold, girl!"

Shaya sighed, the familiar leaden weight pushing down on her chest.

"I can't stay here, Mara, as much as I must thank you for the small kindness that you showed me when I first arrived here. There has been too much trouble. I will speak with T'lenek tomorrow. There must be some traders who are headed south-east to Nerat. I need to be away from dragons and dragonmen."

Her own words felt unreal to her but Shaya knew that she spoke the truth. As much as she loved her friends, her only reason for remaining in Benden no longer existed. Everything had changed.

Fredal and F'dar came by as Shaya received her evening meal. The three friends wept once again until a chirrup announced the arrival of a small golden firelizard in the room.

"Oh! Look! It's Nono!" Fredal chuckled.

Nono alighted upon Fredal's oustretched forearm, folding her golden wings and cocking her head to regard Shaya.

"Nono? What sort of a name is that?" Shaya asked.

"She's Nono 'cos every time she messes up your stuff and you scream 'No! No!' when she makes off with your socks or steals off your plate during dinner!" F'dar pointed out, causing them all to laugh.

"She's pretty!" Shaya exclaimed, in wonder.

"She's a bleeding nuisance," F'dar pouted.

"But she's _my_ menace," Fredal added with pride. "I'll let you have your choice of the eggs when she clutches."

Shaya looked away. "I'm not going to be here that long. I'm leaving Benden as soon as I can."

"You can't!" F'dar exclaimed, placing a hand on Shaya's forearm.

"No one's going to stop me," Shaya said quietly. "There's nothing left for me here."

"What are you going to do? You can't live Holdless," Fredal stated.

"Oh, but you're forgetting, I have, I can and I will. I spent the first thirteen Turns of my life living without cot, hold or weyr. I can do it again."

Fredal nodded, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks. "But we're going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, but Pern's only so big and you both still have your dragons. I'll send letters when I can."

"You don't write very well," F'dar pointed out.

Shaya shrugged. "Just to see the way you so casually take your relationships with your dragons causes me more pain than you'd like to know. I can't stay here and I'm not going back to the kitchens either. I'll figure it all out once I'm on the road. Maybe I'll even travel with the Traders for a while… who knows?"

"Now," Shaya stated, "tell me what's really been going on in this weyr."

"Aunt Fessli wasn't that well after Suteth… But it was more than that because she fell ill, a day after the Gather. V'ton and a group of the other riders, including most of the bronzes, challenged S'man's right to be Weyrleader," Fredal said quietly.

"They said he was too young and inexperienced," F'dar frowned. "This is utter dung if you ask me 'cos he was doing fine with Fessli's guidance."

"V'ton and S'man traded blows about a sevenday later and that is when he stepped down. Fessli was quite weak by then – she's suffered a stroke, on top of the heart problems and this just didn't help," Fredal said, wiping her eyes.

"How have things been for the weyrlings?" Shaya asked, feeling the sudden twinge at realising that she no longer numbered among their group.

F'dar sighed. "It's been all right. We've been split into pairings and I'm staying in a weyr with Sh'miel and Winath. He's an entirely okay sort."

"I've been placed with Laree and green Vemenoth. Theria's all on her own with Ulmanoth but then, she _is_ a queenrider," Fredal said, stroking Nono's head gently. The little queen stirred and buzzed at the attention but did not awaken.

Shaya gazed at her friends for a long moment. Both had changed dramatically, in her estimation. F'dar now stood at least a head taller than her and Fredal carried herself with much more self assurance, with the first flush of womanhood blossoming on her slight frame. They would be good dragonriders, she felt certain, and she wouldn't be surprised if they eventually became weyrmates.

They spoke for a while yet about other matters, Shaya trying to distance herself from the conversation as she sensed that her friends encouraged engaging her emotionally in discussing weyr life. She did not, however, tell them about the dreams that drew her, yet.

The following day, after one of the drudges brought her breakfast, Shaya dressed in the worn leather trousers and grey linen tunic that had been laid out for her, laced her boots and went to see the weyrlingmaster. She kept her head down as she traversed the courtyard towards the weyrlings' training hall and lecture rooms, keeping her dreads over her face and sticking to the shaded areas near the buildings. She cursed beneath her breath at how weak she felt and how wasted her muscles had become from almost three months lying abed.

If she could leave the Weyr this day, she would, but also knew that such an action would be impractical when she could barely walk a dragonlength without first pausing to catch her breath. Shaya also tried to not pay any heed to the whispered conversations that followed in her wake. She missed her dragon's comforting awareness now more than anything else and, by the time she'd reached the lecture room's door, she'd had to wipe her eyes to prevent the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Everything had changed, hadn't it?

Much to her relief, the other weyrlings were not currently present, leaving Shaya a vacant hall to traverse before she could knock on the weyrlingmaster's office door.

"Enter," came the terse reply and Shaya swallowed hard before pushing the door open.

A brief look of shock flitted across T'lenek's features when he saw that Shaya had occasioned to visit him but he quickly regained his composure.

"Ah, Shaya, come sit down. I'd heard that you had become well again."

"With all due respect sir, I'll stand. I don't think I can speak with anyone else but you considering all the changes that have taken place here but I do need to inform someone with authority that I plan to leave Benden Weyr as soon as I am able."

T'lenek frowned at Shaya's words, steepling his fingers and leaning forward to stare intently at Shaya through his seeing glasses.

"I can't say that I don't empathise and understand your motives but, such an act may be construed as a hostile gesture by certain parties in this Weyr."

Shaya, now annoyed, flicked back her locks. "What do you mean? Am I Benden's prisoner then? Is one girl of about fourteen Turns of age a threat to a Weyr full of dragons?"

"It's not that," T'lenek hissed and Shaya suddenly felt certain that the man knew something that he was not sharing with her.

"That night that Suteth went between, she killed four men, dragonriders all."

Shaya's heart almost stopped beating as she digested this information that the others had not shared with her, perhaps because it was so painful. Four dragons dead!

"Your dragon bit and killed two of the men, clawed the other and the fourth was dragged between," T'lenek spat the words out, looking her straight in the eye. "I hope that you realise that this is almost unprecedented in Pernese history. There was such an outcry that we had to fight hard not to have you sent to Packtail Rocks Hold, in spite of what some of our more vocal dissidents were saying."

Shaya nodded dumbly.

"Now, you may no longer have a dragon, but it is still my business ensuring that you, as a former weryling, are placed somewhere where your skills and energy can be used. Mara tells me that you will not be returning to the kitchens as her apprentice and, for obvious reasons, until Sulath rises, we'll need to keep you out of our acting Weyrleader's notice. You will move your things to the spare rooms attached to my weyr and you will work as my assistant, as such time you are transferred or you figure out what you want from life. Am I making myself clear?"

Something in the man's voice indicated that he would brook no argument and Shaya nodded, her eyes downcast as she stood before the weyrlingmaster. This new development was certainly the last that she needed in this point in time.

The interview over, Shaya returned to her old weyr, where she discovered, to her intense relief, that her things had been left untouched since that fateful day. She sat for a long while on her bed, lost in her memories, berating herself for the fact that she had taken her dragon for granted while Suteth had still been alive.

Breathing deeply, she imagined that she could still capture Suteth's elusive scent. She hoped that no one would be looking for her too soon and allowed herself the simple luxury of falling asleep in her weyr for the last time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Pern and its Dragonriders belong to Anne McCaffrey who's so kind to allow us to play in her world a while.**

XXX

I fly over storm-racked ocean, my wings battling against deceptive wind currents as I stay close to the water's turbulent surface. I can't be certain, but I'm almost convinced that I saw a pair of dragons riding sweep not too long ago. Before I go _between_ I must make sure… Just a few more dragonlengths…

XXX

Shaya lurched upright, sure that this dream she'd just had was her actual reality. She had dreamt, once again, of flying low across the sea, of hunting, of worry. Since her recovery and subsequent placement as T'lenek's assistant, a nasty suspicion had been growing in her mind. What if Suteth had not died? Shaya already knew that her dragon had not been like the others.

"Suteth?" she queried quietly, a lone tear tracing down her cheek. If the dragon was at least alive somewhere, then why hadn't she come to fetch Shaya? Her arms ached in sympathy to her vivid recollection of fighting a strong side-wind. What if they knew that Suteth still lived and were now trying to keep that knowledge of a rogue queen from her? The implications of her connection to such a dragon began to sink in. Of course they wouldn't want her with the dragon, not with her past. And, they would try and keep her under eye as much as possible.

A welter of emotions filled Shaya, including an impotent fury that almost resulted in her punching the wall. Shards! This was unfair! If Suteth even came within a day of Benden, they would probably send the entire Weyr armed with firestone against Suteth. As long as Shaya remained trapped here, there would be no chance for her to be reunited with her dragon.

What if Suteth didn't want her anymore? Surely she would have bespoken Shaya by now? But then, the dragon displayed an uncanny mind. What if Suteth feared that Shaya would inadvertently give away knowledge of her survival or, be used as a pawn to bait a trap for the black dragon? She had to know for herself and the only way that that would happen would be if Shaya could somehow contrive to escape Benden without being followed.

Over the next sevenday, Shaya tested out her theory that she was indeed being carefully watched. To her dismay, she came to the conclusion that her suspicions were correct. Through careful observance, even when she found herself alone, she almost always saw one of the blue or brown riders resting not far away, almost too casually. Timing them, she figured out that each rider watched her for about two or three candlemarks. T'lenek locked his quarters at night and she doubted she could sneak past brown Farneth. Something would have to be done, for at night her dreams became so vivid that she'd wake up two or three times in a cold sweat, choking back a cry.

XXX

"You have to help me," Shaya whispered fervently to Fredal as she helped her friend mend her riding harness.

"I daren't!" Fredal hissed back, looking over her shoulder towards a small knot of riders who leant against the wall opposite where the girls sat out near the barracks.

"What if I'm right? What if Suteth lives and they're trying to hide this from me?"

"You're only saying that because you want it to be true!" Fredal exclaimed.

"Then how do I explain the dreams? I keep seeing the same beach. There's no sand, only round pebbles of black stone, high cliffs and a cave. I think it's an island. I dream of this place every night. I know that I can give you the visuals and you and Kushoth can take us there. They needn't know we were ever gone! Please Fredal! It's almost spring! I cannot live like this anymore!"

By now Fredal's face shone wet with tears. "Shaya. All right. Very well. At the next Gather we'll figure this out by then. Just please. I have some very real fears that this ill-considered venture will have you and I disappearing between for good. Let's not talk about this anymore. Nothing good can come of this."

"But you know that it is not right with V'ton lording it over us as if he's going to become Weyrleader when Sulath rises. As if a young queen will let a _mere_ brown catch her? He's poisoning this Weyr and I intend removing myself from this situation, once I can reach Suteth."

Fredal nodded and Shaya knew triumph. Many sevenday of playing T'lenek's dumb charade of the obedient semi-drudge would pay off. She would be free of Benden. She needed supplies, however, and she needed to keep her timing right. With Fredal sworn to secrecy it was simply a case of waiting for the Gather day, when the Weyr's attention would be focused on festivities rather than a young woman slipping like a shadow through its service tunnels.

When Gather day dawned and, with Fredal's words of "Be careful!" still ringing in her ears, Shaya tried to appear casual as she entered those familiar passages that honeycombed the lower caverns. It had been half a Turn ago that she had walked these stone tunnels and the experience evoked peculiar emotions in her. Shaya reminded herself that she needed to keep her objective in mind. She'd already given the greenrider – her tail – the slip and now only had a small window of opportunity to steal into the stores, help herself to supplies and make good her escape.

Whenever seeing other people became unavoidable, Shaya walked straight, with a purpose – as if T'lenek had sent her on an important errand. Otherwise, she purposefully avoided drudges, crafters and any other folk still about.

She couldn't help feeling nervy and, also, Shaya noted, the fear of discovery actually excited her. It felt almost like the days that she'd gone out to some of the smaller, outlying holds to appropriate supplies. Of course stealing wasn't particularly nice but sometimes circumstances such as this could not be avoided, she reflected. She did not want to remain at the beck and call of her elders for the rest of her life. Besides, what price was so bad to pay for her freedom? Everyone would be far happier once she'd gone.

Only a handful of drudges and one or two apprentices still scoured pots in the kitchen and they appeared too immersed in their duties to notice Shaya slip by. She sighed with relief when she entered the relative safety of the storerooms, where few glowbaskets dispelled the gloom. Into her sling bag she packed enough dried meat for five days, some tubers and a few packets of nuts. She expected to catch fish and had already appropriated tackle and hooks. She also discovered dried fruit and took some of that as well. She didn't want to bog herself down with pots, so she could not take any oats. Her missing belt knife still presented a problem, however, but she'd convinced F'dar to part with an old one of his. It would do, for now.

Pausing once to look around at the assortment of wooden storage boxes and barrels, Shaya hefted her now heavy slingbag and slipped out the door. The best thing to do in a situation such as this was to walk with confidence, as if she'd a right to swagger through the passages with a bag bulging suspiciously. Shaya boldly stared down one or two of the drudges that she encountered and happened to look askance of her.

She'd almost exited the service tunnels leading to the Weyr proper when a figure stepped out of a side tunnel to block her path. Shaya's blood turned to ice at the sight of Jeram, who regarded her coolly, a slight sneer playing across his lips. He flicked back his long, white-blond fringe and laughed chilly.

"My, my, my, look at what I've trapped here."

He'd shot up in the intervening months and now stood at eye-level with Shaya.

"I've trapped me the bastard get of a thieving tunnel snake and we all know what we do when we capture them, don't we?"

He eyed her full sling bag speculatively. Shaya considered her options. If she turned and ran, chances were good that Jeram would raise the alarm and have her trapped in one of the side tunnels. Also, she did not like the fact that she could not see Benno, or one of Jeram's other cronies. But then, what was he doing here in the first place? Her eyes flicked nervously from side to side. An object strapped to Jeram's belt caught her eye – her father's knife!

All indecision fled as she looked him straight in the eye. He carried on talking, oblivious to her sizing him up.

"Well, I guess I'd better call the guys, since I think this little snake will put up a bit of a fight. It's a good thing that I decided to follow you when I saw you enter the…"

Jeram's words were cut short as Shaya punched him, throwing her bodyweight into the blow, the way her father had taught her. The boy did not expect this move and collapsed like a pole-axed herdbeast, his limbs twitching slightly. Shaya knew that he'd have the headache to crown all headaches when he awoke but, by then, if her plans worked, she'd be long gone from Benden or, at least past caring. She hoped it was the former rather than the latter.

She shook her fist to dispel some of the pain – yes – and she'd have bruised knuckles to prove her success. Right now she did not have much time. Her watchers would be suspicious of her long absence. Trying not to draw too much attention to herself by hurrying, Shaya nonetheless stepped up her pace. What if Fredal could not meet her at the practice field? What if F'dar could not arrange their planned diversion?

Breathing hard, she tried not to think of these things as she hastened to her destination. What if the co-ordinates that now seemed etched in her mind were just a delusion? Some surreptitious searching on the Weyrlingmaster's wall-mounted maps had indeed confirmed that the islands in the southeast were of a volcanic nature, as she'd dreamed. What if Kushoth went between and they didn't come through on the other side?

But no. The dream came through every night with such clarity and such insistency that Shaya had no doubt that it was not just a figment of her imagination. She felt sure that she knew what she'd find on the other side.

Kushoth, much to Shaya's relief, did wait on the practice field. In the distance, Shaya could make out the mass of brightly-coloured tents that formed the sprawl of the Gather day traders.

"It's been a Turn since you've been fostered here," Fredal said, stepping from out of her trim green dragon's shadow.

"It's an eventful Turn," replied Shaya, looking around. "Are you ready, Fredal? One day I will repay you for trusting me. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I'm your friend, Shaya, and friends would do no less for each other," Fredal stated, taking Shaya's hand firmly in her own. "Now, let's waste no more time."

Suddenly Basteth exploded low out of between above the crowd of tents.

"That's our signal," Fredal said as she helped Shaya fasten her straps, giving her friend a grim smile.

Both knew that, if Shaya's co-ordinates were wrong, this would be the last time that they'd feel the sun on their skin. Kushoth's muscles bunched between Shaya's legs as the small dragon leapt skywards, her wings sweeping down in broad strokes as she escaped gravity's clutches. Kushoth angled away from the Weyr, veering to the east and Shaya took a deep breath, clearing her mind of the trepidation she felt at the execution of this crazy venture. Thinking of nothing else, she visualised their destination, drawing her breath sharply as the cold of between chilled away sensations she might have.

XXX

Both Shaya and Fredal let out a whoop of joy when they came out from between, their skin icy but the relief of their success pumping through their veins.

"We've made it!" Fredal cried out.

Kushoth trumpeted her triumph as she glided over white-caps. Before them a small scattering of islands rose out of the ocean's turbulence, cresting in series of pinnacles that resisted the waves' efforts at smashing them back down. Kushoth trumpeted again loudly, sharing their excitement as they glided towards the largest of the islands. They saw no sign of human habitation. The only growth that clung to the island's steep sides was a kind of low, windswept scraggly bush that appeared to be a distant cousin of the needlethorn.

The small halfmoon of the bay that had haunted Shaya's sleep for so long hove into view and rose up to meet them as Kushoth back-winged, setting them down gently on the expanse of water-scoured pebbles. As Shaya remembered, the overhang of the cave gaped above them.

"Well, we're here," Fredal stated as she, too slithered down to the ground after her friend. "What now?"

"I wait. And you return to Benden before you're missed. I've enough supplies to last me about half a sevenday, if not more. If all goes well and you return here and find me gone, then you'll know that I was right. If you return and I'm still sitting here, well then I'll appreciate a ride back to the mainland."

Just then, Kushoth raised herself onto her haunches, stretching her neck as she gazed out towards the sea.

"She says another dragon approaches!" Fredal exclaimed.

Hope flared sickeningly in Shaya's breast as she held her hands over he brow to shield her eyes from the sun's glare as she looked into the direction that held Kushoth's rapt attention.

"We weren't followed, were we?"

"Kushoth says no."

"Do you think?"

Silence. Finally, human eyes could make out the distant shape of a lone dragon's wings fighting against turbulence.

Without warning, Kushoth trumpeted her greeting and, from far away, an answering call could be heard.

"It _is_ her!" Fredal cried out, hugging Shaya fiercely.

Shay returned her friend's embrace, tears flowing.

_Suteth!_

_Little one_ came the reply as contact was re-established, causing Shaya to gasp, her knees buckling.

Suteth had grown much in the intervening months, dwarfing Kushoth as she back-winged, sending up huge gusts of wind as she settled down on the pebbles. Sunlight gleamed off the oily, green-gold sheen of her hide, her eyes whirling blue. Even now, for an immature queen, Suteth was massive. Muscles rippled as she folded her wings against her back, pausing to cautiously touch noses with the green dragon before dipping her head to regard the two young women.

_Thank you for trusting Shaya_ she said to Fredal, who now, also, shared Shaya's tears.

"It's an honour," Fredal replied.

Trembling, Shaya stepped forward and reached up to scratch Suteth's eye ridges.

_Ah, there are many things that I have missed, Shaya. We won't be parted now. There is much that needs to be done that only a human can accomplish._

"Why did you not answer me? Why did you let me believe that you were dead?"

_It was too dangerous. It still is. It is better that, how do they say it? The rogue queen, that she remains unseen for a while longer. Come. We must fly._

The dragon turned to Kushoth, who dipped her head at the much larger queen. Whatever passed between the two, neither one of the girls would later find out.

"I guess this is it," Fredal said.

"For now," Shaya replied, taking her friend's hand. "Things are changing on Pern and we will be at the forefront of it."

Fredal nodded, biting her lip. "Will you be all right?"

"I don't think that Suteth will let anything happen to me."

"How will I find you again?"

"You won't. I'll find you. I'm pretty certain that we're going to surpass my father's reputation for notoriety over the next few Turns."

Suteth nudged Shaya hard from behind so that she stumbled.

"Your dragon grows impatient!" Fredal laughed. "Go on and don't do anything too wherry-headed!"

They embraced one last time. Shaya struggled to scramble onto Suteth's back, even as the dragon dropped lower. The familiar spiciness of her dragon's scent triggered so many memories.

_Now, I don't have riding straps, so you'd better not let me fall._

_I will never let you fall_

Shaya held on for dear life as she felt the large beast's muscles bunch beneath her. The initial break with gravity threatened to unseat her, but desperation breeds tenacity and Shaya did not slip off her dragon's back as she'd feared. She marvelled at how quickly the island shrank to a small blemish in the sea and felt grateful for her wherhide jacket.

_Where are we going?_

_It is a surprise._ _You'll see._ Suteth replied and Shaya could sense draconic mirth in that statement as they went between.

XXX

It might be questioned how I survived that fateful evening. Is it luck? Co-incidence? As one of V'ton's cronies stabbed at me, and yes, if you look at my breastbone you will see a faint, diagonal scar etched on my hide – I took that man with me into my first jaunt between and he did not come out on the other side and I can well imagine that V'ton will wish to exact the price of this insult out of my flesh.

If you must know, it was my sire that gave me the co-ordinates. It was a grim situation. I grasped at the first help that I received.

Tarth sent me the visuals that directed me to this barren place. When I arrived here, I was hurt, lost and afraid. You must remember that we'd only barely begun our first flights, let alone going between and here I'd done everything in one fell swoop.

I won't elaborate about my time here, safe to say that I slept and attempted flying but was growing too weak from hunger, having been accustomed to two or more meals a day before this.

Imagine my surprise when, about a sevenday after my arrival, that Tarth and his rider should appear. By this stage, about all that I could do was snap weakly at the man as he ran his hands over my wasted frame.

With soothing words and fresh wherry hunted for me, S'man nursed me back to health. I will be forever in his debt. Tarth displayed his devotion time and time again and, from the minds of dragon and rider I've drawn much information of what befell my erstwhile rider.

You see, I broke my Impression of necessity, thereby buying myself the time to heal and regain my strength and, yes, to grow. As I stand here, I am not yet come into my full stature but, within a Turn or so, I know that I shall rival even my distant ancestor Ramoth.

What of Shaya? What of her indeed? You think me callous for leaving her on her own for so long. Let me remind you that the girl was in a comatose state for nigh on three months after our attack and would have been of no use to me. Tarth counselled me against blundering into the Weyr, rightly stating that that approach was mired in folly. We were all aware of V'ton's murderous intentions by then.

Ah, yes, Kiranth I mourn. Fessli was not a bad human and her loss shall be felt keenly by our kind for many Turns, but now that is the way of the world. The old gives way to the new.

Shaya and I still have a long flight ahead of us. As a human she is no worse or better than any of the others. Allow me my whims. I am fond of her. And, she may yet prove useful. It is indeed sometimes very difficult hiding a creature as large and as magnificent as I. Oh. You haven't seen the last of us, my dear little wherries. But, for now, may I suggest that my little morsel and I keep a low profile? All shall be revealed in good time. There is much growing to be done yet.


End file.
